Cicatrix
by Syn2
Summary: When the wizarding world thinks Harry Potter is dead, the search for his Secret-Keeper, Ginny Weasley, is on. complete
1. Prologue

Cicatrix (Prologue)  
  
Author: Syn  
  
E-Mail: veruca_werewolf@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: Strong R  
  
Content: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione  
  
Spoilers: OotP  
  
Setting: Post-Hogwarts  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters  
  
Summary: The Wizarding world thinks Harry Potter is dead and now the search is on for his Secret-Keeper, Ginny Weasley.   
  
A/N: This is going to be a dark, not-nice story. Death, torture, all that good stuff. I love angsty Harry/Ginny. What can I say?  
  
Feedback: I would greatly appreciate it.  
  
****  
  
There is a pain between his eyes. Sharp, searing, like a hot brand puckering the skin, creating blisters that spread to the curves of his face, making his watering eyes burn and boil in their sockets. He can't focus them; everything is strangely blurred. Dark shapes waver in and out as he squints through the pain, gritting his teeth in agony, his head feeling as if it were nearly split in two.  
  
He tastes the coppery tang of blood on his tongue, feels it dripping down his cracked, broken lips and down his chin. With a push of his tongue, he feels the give of one loose tooth and the well of more blood. He grimaces as the pain sharpens and blurs like his vision, then spits out a mouthful of blood and thick saliva.   
  
Eyes squeezed tight against the throbbing in his head, he tries to move his limbs, testing for more aches and wounds. He finds them easily enough as his shoulder gives a tight twist and a shudder. Dislocated. His wrists feel raw and he feels the dull burn of thick rope wrapped around them, tethering him to something--a chair. He's sitting upright; the black robes on his legs are slashed and torn, a pair of equally abused trousers beneath them peaking through, and below that, his legs. There are burns and cuts on the skin, up and down and everywhere he can feel. Some bleed sluggishly, indicating that most are shallow.  
  
Nothing life-threatening, then. He doesn't relax though. He squints into the dark room, trying to locate anything that will tell him where he is. There are dark humps grouped around the room and even darker shadows beyond them. A tentative sniff of the air brings the smell of something acrid and metallic to his senses. There are no windows. No sounds penetrate the small room.  
  
He is utterly alone here and he knows it. He struggles to remember how he got here, why he's hurt and bound to a chair in a dark room. An explosion, a flash of red, laughter, a woman's breath on his neck as he struggles, these are the only details he can pull through his pain.   
  
It is enough for now.   
  
Harry Potter takes a rattling breath, discovers more injuries in the form of broken ribs, and slowly sinks back into the darkness, his scar burning hotly on his forehead...   
  
****  
  
"Reducto!"   
  
A piece of smoldering, broken wall bursts apart in a miniature explosion, revealing the charred mess of glass and melted metal beneath it. Ron Weasley kicks at the rubble, breathing hard against a stitch in his side, sweat pouring into his eyes. He breathes in and coughs on a mouthful of ash, smoke making his eyes water.   
  
Number 12 Grimmauld Place has been reduced to a smoking pile of rubble. Small fires dot the burned out husk of the ancient house, making red and gold shadows flicker across Ron's vision. His hands are cut and bleeding, caked with black ash, his robes covered in soot and grime. He doesn't care, nor notice.  
  
His heart is full to bursting and panic rises with each minute that goes by.   
  
Harry can't be here. He couldn't have been here when it blew. This stubborn thought flies through Ron's head like a mantra even as he digs harder, blasting ash and broken bits of wood out of his way to search beneath. Tears well in his eyes and he fights them off as he digs deeper.   
  
He hears the shouts and the blasts of the other Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix around him as they too search, hearts heavy. There isn't much left that isn't burnt and blackened and nothing much larger remains other than random bits of wall or a support beam that wasn't incinerated by the blast.  
  
If Harry were here, he'd have been burned to death in an instant. Bile rises in Ron's throat as he tosses a bit of crumbling plaster over his shoulder. He can't think, doesn't want to think.  
  
"Why wasn't I here?" he mutters aloud, feeling the sting of more tears threaten his eyes. He'd told Harry that he and Hermione would come by for dinner tonight, but he'd been late...  
  
Because of Ginny. Another blind thrust of panic enters his chest as he thinks of his sister. She was supposed to be on a special mission for the Ministry, curse breaking in Ireland, but she'd never showed up. They'd been ready to leave for Harry's when Kingsley Shacklebolt's head had appeared in their fire and told them the grim news.   
  
Ron gives a sob, forgetting himself and not caring who is near enough to hear. Not an instant later, arms encircle him, drawing him tight against an equally dirty but warm body. He knows this embrace better than even his mother's and sinks into it willingly, fisting his filthy hands in her long, bushy hair.  
  
"Hermione...he couldn't have been here when it blew...he couldn't have!" Ron says into Hermione's shoulder as she shudders against him, holding in her own grief as hard as she can.   
  
"He said he'd be here, Ron...we can't know that he wasn't!" She's speaking sensibly--he's always loved that about her--but he wants her to lie, to tell him that Harry flooed out of the house, that he was safe and sound, somewhere with Ginny maybe. Somewhere not here; not in the burned husk of Grimmauld Place. "We have to keep looking, Ron..."  
  
"I know...I know..." he says softly, swallowing his grief as much as he can and drawing away from her arms. Her face is tear-streaked, bright pink paths in the soot coating her face. He squeezes her hand, feeling the tremble in it and then turns back to the ruins.  
  
Hermione digs beside him, desperate for anything, a clue that will tell them what has happened. It comes several minutes later as Tonks' voice rings clearly across the ruins.   
  
"His wand! Oi! I found his wand!"  
  
Ron leaps to his feet, Hermione on his heels. Together they tear across the burning debris, stumbling and ripping their robes as they make their way toward Tonks' dirty, downtrodden form standing atop the largest pile of blackened support beams. He sees a wooden object balanced in her fingers, dirty but unharmed.   
  
He knows that wand as well as he knows his own and there is no doubt that it's Harry's. His stomach plummets to his toes and as he snatches it from Tonks, who is white-faced and somber.   
  
"Its his. I know it's his. He wouldn't leave the house without his wand--which means..."  
  
"He was here when it blew," Hermione supplies in a gutted, hollow voice. She takes a sharp breath, her hand finding Ron's in the flickering darkness. Other Aurors surround them, bowing their heads. Ron looks down at his feet and sees the dull glimmer of glass beneath the toe of his boots. Stooping, he picks up the object and feels his bile rising again.   
  
"Or his glasses," he says, holding up the twisted metal frames, the cracked glass dark and dim. He touches a jagged red stain upon the cracked glass and groans like a wounded animal. There is a hush as Hermione takes them from him and examines the spectacles.   
  
"Its blood...the blast cauterized it..." Hermione says shortly and looks away, closing her eyes, another fat drop steadily tracking down her cheek. A murmur goes around the battered, defeated group. Ron takes a shuddering breath, smoke burning his esophagus.  
  
  
  
"So that's it, then? Harry Potter is dead," Mad-Eye Moody says in a deep voice, his magical eye rolling around in his skull, an expression of deep sorrow on his scarred face. He has said the thing no one has wanted to hear or even think since the night began, since Ron and Hermione had found Grimmauld Place in flames.  
  
Harry Potter is dead. Ron swallows hard, fighting the urge to hit something, to scream, to curse the nearest thing to him. Instead, he lifts his head and glares at Mad-Eye Moody, brown eyes intent and deadly, jaw clenched.  
  
And he says the very thing everyone is thinking now, has been afraid of since the night before.  
  
"Where is his Secret-Keeper?" Ron says in a dangerous, sharp voice, his eyes dull points of light in his dirty face. The Aurors exchange terrified glances but don't respond. "Where is my sister?"  
  
No answer comes. No one knows where Ginny Weasley has gone.  
  
(end prologue)  
  
**** 


	2. Chapter One

Cicatrix (1/?)  
  
A/N: This first chapter isn't quite as dark as it WILL eventually get, but I'm just now getting into it, so hold tight.  
  
****  
  
Hermione jolted awake, her eyes snapping open and focusing immediately on the crack running the length of the ceiling above her head. She felt as if a weight had settled on her chest, crushing her lungs. The smell of smoke lingered in her nostrils as she breathed in. She fought the sudden urge to claw her way out of the blankets, to get away from the crush of emotion rising in her body.  
  
"You're awake," Ron said simply as she sat up, swallowing hard. He was standing by the window, one long arm resting on the window frame, face bathed in ghostly daylight. Rain tickled the glass, the soft plink-plink of it hitting consuming the sound of her panicked breathing. Ron tilted his face in her direction, his eyes dead, mouth set in a grim line. "You drugged me."  
  
"I drugged myself too. Neither of us were going to sleep after..." she trailed off and squeezed her eyes shut, summoning her strength. "We needed the sleep. We have a lot to do."  
  
"I didn't dream," Ron said heavily.   
  
"It was a potion for dreamless sleep--"   
  
"I wanted to dream, Hermione," he interrupted her, turning back to the window and resting his forehead on the cold, fogged glass. His feathery red hair clung to the wet glass, hiding his face from her view. "I wanted--"  
  
He made a choking noise and gripped the window frame so hard the wood made an ominous creaking sound. Hermione slipped from the bed, a chill draft curling around her bare legs. She touched Ron's shoulder, sliding her hands up his neck. He turned to her without hesitation, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her tight with his lean chest. Hermione closed her eyes and sank against him, leeching the warmth from his body.   
  
She was exhausted, dreamless sleep or no. Her body was sore, fingernails split, and hands cut from digging through the rubble of Grimmauld Place. Her thoughts were racing and she couldn't seem to control them.   
  
Harry was dead.   
  
She didn't want to believe it, but the evidence was all there, the hard facts of the situation undeniable and inescapable. She wished, not for the first time, that she could ignore reason and go with her instincts. Her instincts told her that Harry was alive--he'd always managed to scrape through and survive before. She'd come to count on that. No matter what, Harry always came home, beaten and bruised but alive.   
  
It hardly seemed possible that his luck had finally run out.  
  
There was a hard tap on the fogged window, calling her attention away from Ron's bare chest, where she spied the dark shape of a flapping barn owl outside. Ron let go of her as she threw up the sash, allowing the owl to swoop in and make a small circle of the room before fluttering down beside her on the windowsill. A letter was tied to his leg and as Hermione went to take it, the bird gave a small, feeble hoot and ruffled its wet feathers.   
  
"Ron, get some water and some Owl Treats..." she commanded absently, wanting to read the letter before Ron could get a chance. She had a feeling she knew what was in it and she needed a moment to formulate a plan of action and possibly intercept Ron before did something stupid.   
  
Ron sighed and left the room as she tore the letter open, unrolling it and scanning the short lines. She recognized the handwriting and the seal immediately. It was from the Minister of Magic himself, but despite that, she wasn't comforted by the words inside. She closed her eyes again, asking for yet more strength. She was going to need it.  
  
"You might as well tell me what it says, Hermione. I'm not going to do anything stupid," Ron said from the doorway, popping some Owl Treats and a small dish of water onto the windowsill for the Minister's barn owl, which immediately slurped a mouthful of water and then tore into an Owl Treat with relish.   
  
Hermione reluctantly turned to Ron and handed him the letter. He scanned it and then lifted his chin. "Dad doesn't know where she is? And she never arrived in Dublin? Well, that's ever so much help, isn't it?" His voice was acidic and thick with anger.  
  
"Ron, they're trying. Ginny has to be somewhere--she wouldn't just disappear!"   
  
"She is somewhere, Hermione. The Death Eaters have her and they've tortured her and killed her to get Harry's location. There is no other way that they could know where he was. You know it, I know it," Ron said through his teeth, tossing the letter down on the bureau and sinking onto the bed. "My sister and my best friend are dead."  
  
"You don't know that. Ginny could still be alive..."  
  
"There is no way Ginny would have given up Harry's location without them torturing her first. If she isn't dead, she's better off that way," Ron said in a soft, strangled voice, burying his face in his hands. "If she's still alive I'm going to find out where she is and if she's not, then I'm going to kill every last one of those bastards who did it."  
  
Hermione flinched away from the raw anger and despair in his voice. Anger welled in her chest and she didn't even pretend to fight it down. "Of course you are, Ron. And I'm going to help you."  
  
Ron looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot. Apprehension flickered across his face. "I--"  
  
He was cut off as another owl swooped into the room, knocking the water dish from the sill and making the other owl squawk and flutter up to the top of their wardrobe. The owl landed on Ron's leg and stuck out her leg. He snatched the letter free and the bird took off through the open window once more. Ron ripped it open and read it aloud.  
  
"'Dearest Ronald and Hermione, don't bother looking in the Daily Prophet for news. We're keeping it quiet over here, at the request of the Ministry. It will cause widespread panic if the wizarding world finds out that Harry is dead. I can't tell you enough how sorry I am for his loss. I am also aware that Ginny is missing. That, we are reporting and I'm hoping that by spreading the news of her disappearance, our readers will recognize her and send us information should they spot her. I don't know what to say to either of you. It seems condolences are not enough. I'll just say that I'm here for you should you need me and you have the full backing of the Daily Prophet in whatever you do. Don't bother writing back. Just know that my thoughts are with you. Love, Luna.'"   
  
Ron crumpled the letter and Hermione took a deep breath. "That was nice of her. Luna was always a good friend."  
  
Ron just nodded his head and tossed the letter onto the floor. He studied his bare feet for a moment and then spoke up. "We have to start now, Hermione. We've waited long enough and the trail is just going to get colder the longer we wait. We need to find Ginny now."  
  
"I know," Hermione said, gathering her hair into a bun and reaching for her robes. She pulled them on as quickly as she could, trying not to think about much of anything.  
  
"Why did she insist on being his Secret-Keeper? Why did we let her do it?" Ron asked suddenly, making Hermione stop and turn to look at him again. "She couldn't have known how dangerous it was..."  
  
"Of course she knew, Ron. Ginny wasn't--isn't--stupid. She wanted to do it because she loved Harry. It made her so happy..."  
  
"And it got her killed. Harry let her do it and it got her killed!"   
  
"Don't blame Harry for this, Ron! Don't you dare!" Hermione said in a sharp voice as Ron stood up once more. Her eyes flashed as he glared at her. "Don't...just don't..."  
  
"I could have stopped them both and I didn't. I knew it was stupid--who would be the most obvious person? Her!" Ron tugged at his hair, fisting his hands and pulling his scalp tight. "Of course they went after her...even if they didn't know she was his Secret-Keeper, they still would have gone after her because Harry loved her!"  
  
"Are you blaming him for loving her?"  
  
Ron's expression flickered, pain evident in the stormy brown of his eyes. "Maybe I am, Hermione. Maybe I am."  
  
****  
  
The wounds on his legs were hot and itchy, the torn cloth of his trousers sticking to skin, pulling and twisting with every painful breath he took. His broken ribs caused lances of fire to sear through his middle. His hands were numb and his fingers felt thick. The rubbing of the ropes around his raw wrists was a minor irritation now.   
  
He wanted something to drink--his mouth was warm and dry and his lips were so cracked the air flowing over them was painful. He felt hot and cold at the same time and his neck hurt. He wished he could lie down, or at least pop his shoulder back into place to ease the steady ache it was causing.   
  
The room was still blurry and by then he'd figured that his glasses were long gone. His mind stuttered in small circles over and over again. He was going to die there. He knew this, felt it in his gut.   
  
He just wished death would move a bit faster. He was so damned tired of waiting.  
  
He didn't know how long he'd been in there, tied to that chair. There were no windows to show the passing of time and even if there were, he would have no way of knowing how long he'd been unconscious. His head drooped onto his chest, pain racing up and down his body from a combination of hurts; his broken ribs battling with his dislocated shoulder.   
  
A small click and the light step of hard-soled shoes on wood made him snap back to attention. Immediately he peered into the dusty air, searching for movement among the blurred half-shadows and dark humps around him. A shadow in the shape of a woman separated itself from the others and walked deliberately forward, stopping to crouch in front of him.  
  
He knew this face, this heavy-lidded, dangerously beautiful face. Her thin lips curved into a wicked sickle grin as she leant forward, coming sharply into focus and making him recoil in his chair. His shoulder screamed, but he made no sound as he glared at Bellatrix Lestrange.   
  
"The little baby woke up, eh?" she said in her horrible mock-baby voice, dead eyes flashing. "Fort you were dead, Potter."  
  
"Sorry to disappoint you," Harry managed to rasp through his dry throat. His body gave an involuntary shudder, muscles seizing up, head pounding. The pain in his scar intensified, causing fresh tears to spring to his eyes. He fought the pain down and glared at her.  
  
"Always a stubborn little, hero, aren't you Potter?" she asked quietly, lifting a hand to trace the jagged red stain of his scar. At her touch, the pain intensified threefold and it took everything in him not to cry out against it. She withdrew her hand and pulled her wand from the folds of her black robes, pointing it straight at him. "Now that you're awake and not dead, we're going to have a little fun."  
  
"Are we? Would Voldemort like that, you think?"  
  
"He wants you broken, Potter. Broken and brought down like the sniveling dog you are before he kills you."  
  
"And where is he now?"  
  
"Never you mind, Potter. The Dark Lord will come for you in the end--he knows what the Prophecy said now and he knows, he knows you aren't strong enough to kill him this time. He's going to win." He didn't respond, even though fear was growing in his gut. He knew then that his scar was burning so much because of where he was.   
  
Voldemort knew he'd been captured, finally captured by his most loyal Death Eater and he was beyond pleased. One thought, one he'd been trying to force down since he'd woken up, came to the front of his mind once more. Pain and worry flickered in his eyes as he tried not to meet Bellatrix's hooded gaze.   
  
What had happened to Ginny?   
  
He was afraid to ask; afraid he knew the answer already, afraid of a million things that had nothing to do with himself and his situation. Bellatrix saw the fear in his eyes and her sharp smile widened.   
  
"You're wondering how I knew where you were, aren't you?" Harry just glared. She was just playing with him, baiting him. They both knew the only way she could have found out where he'd been was if--  
  
But Harry didn't want to hear it. He wanted to die before he heard the thing he was most afraid of.   
  
"She told me, Potter. She told me where you were, spilled all your little secrets," Bellatrix said. Harry shook on his chair, more than just muscle strain making him do so. His heart felt like it were going to burst like his head. His scar burned anew; sweat pouring down his too-hot, too-cold face.   
  
"She loved you, Potter."  
  
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?" Harry burst out, unable to keep it inside any longer. Bellatrix laughed, a cold, high-pitched laugh that drained the marrow from his bones.   
  
"I didn't do anything to her, Potter," she said. "But you might want to ask yourself whether or not you made the right person your Secret-Keeper. She seemed to be so...willing to spill your location, after all. Why did you choose her again?"  
  
Harry felt the first stirrings of suspicion at her words. Was she insinuating what he thought she was?  
  
"What are you saying, Lestrange?" he croaked, fear colliding with his anger.  
  
Bellatrix shrugged, an innocent, unknowing look on her face. "Love is a terrible thing, Potter. Betrayal is even worse." Before he could fully process her words, she lifted her wand, pointing it straight at his face. "iCrucio!/i"  
  
Harry's thoughts were lost as his scar, his bones, his flesh burned. He cried out despite himself, stomach muscles tightening as his nerves burned and twisted inside his skin. Pain so sharp and hard and terrible crept through his body, sending him spiraling back into the blackness he'd only just escaped, the sound of Bellatrix Lestrange's laughter his only companion.  
  
****  
  
Ten Months Earlier  
  
High summer at Grimmauld Place was a sticky, stuffy affair. The ancient house suffered under the weight of the sun and only a strong draught of Molly Weasley's Cooling Concoction was enough to make it bearable. Even then, sweat covered his body, making his t-shirt cling uncomfortably to his back.   
  
Across from him, Ron was picking at the remains of his Cornish hen, the healing cut over his eye thrown into stark relief by the flickering fire of the candles on the table. He'd only just got out of St. Mungo's that morning, having been seriously injured in another raid on a suspected Death Eater camp two weeks ago. Two Aurors had been killed in the raid and Ron had only got out there alive because Hermione and Harry had showed up just in time with reinforcements.  
  
Hermione had ended up on the business end of a rather nasty curse tossed at her by Antonin Dolohov, who had got away yet again. It seemed he had a sort of a grudge against Hermione, though no one was quite sure why. This was the fifth time he'd hit her with a successful curse. Dolohov's obsession with her had (not unexpectedly) been a source of constant worry for Ron, who was sure that one day Dolohov would stop playing with her and kill her for real. Hermione had just waved him away, wincing in pain. She could handle herself, as they all knew well, but the situation wasn't something they could easily dismiss.   
  
Hermione was still on liquid foods, but the soup before her remained largely untouched. A large bottle of St. Ankie's Medicinal Miracle (for the fighting of infections and the healing of internal injuries) was sitting next to her hand and she took a drink from it at regular five-minute intervals. Her face was pale, but she was smiling despite that. Ron reached across her and seized her cold soup, drawing it in front of himself and ladling it into his mouth.  
  
"What?" he asked, looking up at her as she made a clucking noise in her throat.  
  
"You could at least ask if I was done."  
  
"You haven't touched it in ten minutes!" Ron protested, slurping the soup from his spoon with relish.   
  
"That's not the point Ron..."  
  
At that point, Harry tuned them both out, knowing an argument was on its way and sure enough, their voices got louder. Harry glanced at Ginny, watching as she took a sip of champagne and then turned to meet his eye. Her long red hair was unbound and fluttering in the summer breeze flowing in from the open window. His own hair was mussed and tossed over his scarred forehead, one long, coal black strand snagged on his round glasses. She smiled at him unexpectedly and he immediately clasped her hand under the table, squeezing her fingers tight in his own.   
  
"Are you okay?" she asked, barely moving her lips.  
  
He nodded, tossing his unruly hair out his face and glancing at the couple across from them. Ron had plunked down the spoon and there was soup on the tablecloth. He was now shouting about something completely unrelated to his theft of Hermione's soup.  
  
"Keep talking like that, Hermione! Next time you won't be so lucky and Dolohov's going stop playing with you! Why does he have a grudge against you anyway?"   
  
"Your guess is as good as mine, Ron, but I've told you a thousand times not to worry about it. He's my problem, not yours!"  
  
"He is so my problem! What if he kills you?"  
  
"I hardly think that's going to happen--"  
  
"You what? Look what he did to you this time! He could have just as easily killed you as cursed you, you know! Why am I the only one concerned here?" Ron said as he turned on Harry and Ginny sitting across from him. "Can you believe her?"  
  
"Uh...well..." Harry started, unsure how to respond. Ron seemed to think his response was sufficient and turned back to harassing Hermione.  
  
Ginny leaned across the arm of her chair toward Harry, her smile slipping away. "We're going to have to intercept him if we want to get to it tonight. You know how he is."  
  
Harry nodded his head and took a deep breath, green gaze flicking to Hermione and back again. "Are you sure you want to do this?"  
  
"YES," Ginny said in a steely voice that brooked no arguments. Harry studied her face for a moment, biting down on his lip. He was unsure himself, despite the resolve in her eyes. Nodding his head again, he cleared his throat, breaking in before Ron could start off on another tangent.  
  
"Mate, I'd hate to interrupt here, but...its time." He turned to Hermione, who was looking down at her hands. "Are you sure you're up to this, Hermione? We could wait..."  
  
Hermione looked up and met Harry's eye. "No. I'm ready. This needs to be done." Ron made a sound of protest and Hermione turned to him with a glare in her eyes. "What now?"  
  
"I don't think we should do this," he said steadily, not looking at either Harry or Ginny. "You know as well as I do that this will put Ginny in danger and I don't want--"  
  
"I'm in danger anyway, Ron," Ginny said clearly, her chin set as she glared at her older brother. "If we do this then at least I'll know that Harry is safe."  
  
"But you won't be! Every Death Eater will be looking for Harry's Secret-Keeper and you're going to be the most obvious target. Its not exactly a secret that you're both...close. Make me his Secret-Keeper instead."  
  
Ginny made a small noise of impatience. "Ron, how thick are you? Everyone knows that you're his best mate, Hermione too! And you're both in danger everyday. It's much more likely that you'll be caught than I will. I'm never in danger unless I'm with one of you three!"  
  
"That doesn't matter! Your relationship with Harry is going to get out sooner or later and they'll come for you anyway just because of that. They'll hurt him any way they can. I don't want you to do this," Ron said in a decisive tone.   
  
"That's the problem, Ron. It's not up to you. This is between Harry and I and he wants me to do it too. Don't you, Harry?" Ginny said, turning her attention back on him. He was once again caught in the warm brown of her eyes, a lump rising in his throat. "Harry?"  
  
"Ginny...maybe Ron's right. Maybe you shouldn't do this. We could get one of the Order...or maybe your dad..."  
  
"No!" Ginny said sharply, pushing her chair away from the table and upsetting her glass of champagne, which tottered to the floor with a splash and a crash. "We can't trust anyone in the Order--not really. It has to be one of us, someone we know isn't a spy and would never turn on us."  
  
Hermione said in a soft voice, "Harry's parents thought Pettigrew was trustworthy and look how that turned out."  
  
"Are you saying one of us would betray each other?" Ginny asked sharply, glaring down at the older girl, her eyes blazing.   
  
Hermione met her gaze and sighed softly. "Of course not, Ginny. I don't think anyone here would be a spy, not ever. I'm just trying to look at both sides of the situation. We all agree that things are getting too dangerous and that he does need a Secret-Keeper. If Dumbledore were still alive then there would be no doubt that we'd use him, but as that isn't the case..."  
  
"Get to the point, Hermione," Ginny said sullenly, pacing the room, sweat beading her upper lip. "Are you saying that you don't want me to do this either?"  
  
"No, not precisely. The fact is, whoever his Secret-Keeper is will be in danger, no matter what. Are you truly sure you're ready to face the consequences of this, Ginny? Do you love him enough to risk your life for him?"   
  
Harry watched the three of them, feeling as if they were talking about him like he wasn't there. A knot of worry had formed in his stomach and was now working its way toward the lump in his throat. He spoke up, not looking at Ginny, his heart aching. "Ron's already said it. She's risking her life by being with me in the first place. Hell, being my friend is a dangerous thing. I get people killed when they get too close to me..."  
  
A small sob escaped Ginny's throat and he lowered his gaze, staring at a healed scar on his hands, a remnant of the night Dumbledore had died. The air was suddenly not just hot, but suffocating too.  
  
Hermione was the first to speak. "No you don't, Harry. You know that's not true..."  
  
"Do I, Hermione? My parents, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, and Neville--tell me I'm imagining it! I dare you."  
  
Everyone flinched at the sound of Neville's name. The wounds of his death were still fresh and they throbbed painfully. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but snapped it closed once more, unease in her eyes. Ron's hand touched her shoulder and she lifted her own to cover it.   
  
Harry stood, looking down at them both. "I can't do this right now."  
  
And with that, he turned on his heel and marched past Ginny, hitting the stairs at a run. The door to his room flew open as he pointed his wand at it and he sprinted inside, his heart hammering in chest. He waved his wand over his shoulder for the door to slam shut behind him, but the sound of it hitting the jam never came.   
  
He whirled around and found Ginny standing there with a stony expression on her freckled, slightly sunburned face.   
  
"What in hell do you think you're doing?" she asked him in a cold voice, stepping into the room and closing the door with a slam that made the house rattle around them. "You promised you weren't going to do this anymore."  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Blame yourself for every fucking thing that's ever happened in this war!"   
  
"How can I not?" he said, pacing across the room to stand against the wall, his eyes closed so that he didn't have to look at her. He didn't think he could handle looking at her at that moment. His heart was aching horribly, his stomach in knots.  
  
"Because you know it's not your fault--its You-Know-Who's! He did it all, Harry!"  
  
"Voldemort did it trying to get to me! That's why they're all dead!" Harry said with a note of rising anger in his voice. He'd heard this argument from her many times before and didn't think he could handle it just now. He wanted her to go away and leave her alone. Whenever she was near him, he felt weaker somehow, not in control of himself or his emotions.   
  
He loved her so much it hurt sometimes and he knew she felt the same.   
  
"Harry, I could argue with you about this for the rest of your life. I'm not going to try to convince you that it's not your fault though. You obviously won't listen to me," Ginny said, crossing the room to stand in front of him. He looked down at her, seeing the fire in her brown eyes and the anger written plainly on her features.   
  
"I do listen to you, Ginny. But I can't change the facts. Being with me is dangerous. I'm scared of what might happen to you."  
  
"We've gone over this--I'm not scared. I want to be your Secret-Keeper. Can you trust me?" Her eyes went soft, tears welling, blurring the brown of her eyes. Harry touched her face and smiled sadly.  
  
"Of course I can. I love you and I trust you," Harry said, bending to kiss her, claiming her mouth as her arms went around his neck. A smile of satisfaction was on her lips as he pulled away and something else.  
  
Something glinted in her eyes, something he could never name.  
  
(end chapter)  
  
**** 


	3. Chapter Two

Cicatrix (2/?)  
  
A/N Plotty goodness!   
  
****  
  
One moment Ron was in the flat he shared with Hermione and the next he'd Apparated with a crack into a splendid hall filled with witches and wizards walking to and fro. There was another crack beside him as Hermione Apparated at his elbow, her face extremely pale and her eyes bloodshot. She hadn't cried, not yet, and he knew she was going to pay for it later. Right now, she was too intent on thinking, on finding a how and a why for what had happened.  
  
Without speaking, they circled the fountain in the middle of the Ministry's main hall and headed toward one of the twenty golden grille fronted lifts, squeezing inside with several other busy wizards, one sporting a large cauldron which seemed to be hiccoughing in a weak manner. Everyone ignored it and they rode in silence, the lift juddering, and letting people on and off as the doors opened on each level.  
  
Finally they reached Level two and Ron and Hermione stepped out of the lift, followed closely by the cauldron-bearing wizard who headed off toward the Misuse of Magic office. As they approached the lop-sided sign that identified Auror Headquarters, they heard the rise and fall of several voices thick with anger. They exchanged glances and winced.  
  
They had expected this. There was going to some opposition to what had happened and what everyone should do now that the worst possible thing had come to pass. Steeling himself, Ron walked into the large cubicle that was Auror Headquarters, noticing the lull in the arguments for a split moment as they all spied him, Hermione at his side.  
  
"You didn't have to come into work today, son," a familiar, haggard voice said from the crowd. Everyone's attention turned on the Minister of Magic as Arthur Weasley extracted himself from the crowd and crossed to his son, placing one hand on his broad shoulder and staring up into his strong face. "The same for you, Hermione. Your mother is sick with worry."  
  
Ron just stared at his father, seeing the mark of aging on the familiar features of his face, the strain around his eyes clear and present for someone who knew him so well. His father was hurting too--he'd always thought of Harry as one his son's and this news had hit him hard. He couldn't even imagine how his mother must be feeling.  
  
"You know we can't take the time, Mr. Weasley. There is too much to do," Hermione said with a heavy sigh, her face unreadable. Mr. Weasley touched her face and then nodded his head.   
  
"Yes, there is. I'm glad you're both here, you especially Hermione. We need your cool head," Arthur said, turning to the rest of the Auror's who had grown quiet, watching with dark expressions on their faces. Ron spotted Tonks standing shoulder to shoulder with Remus Lupin, her eyes strangely bright, hair black and long as it swung in her face. His gaze connected with Lupin's and he saw the open expression of mourning in his eyes. He had to look away quickly.   
  
"I won't pretend that the situation isn't bad, not with you lot. You know it and I know it. We suspect Harry Potter is dead--we're never going to be sure what happened back at Grimmauld Place, but we can't rule out the evidence. Our best chance at destroying You-Know-Who is gone and now my daughter is missing..." Arthur said, dropping his head, unable to say more.   
  
Kingsley Shacklebolt cleared his throat and everyone looked at him. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but it has to be said. How do we know if she was taken by the Death Eaters or if she went willingly?"  
  
Ron's temper flared and he pulled out his wand in an instant. "Watch your mouth, Shacklebolt!"  
  
"Ron!" Hermione warned sharply, grabbing his wrist and attempting to wrench his wand down. "Don't!"  
  
"Did you hear what he said, Hermione?"  
  
"Of course I heard him, Ron! And he has a point!" Hermione said through gritted teeth. Ron stared at her in disbelief, and then wrenched his wrist from her grasp, breathing heavily.  
  
"Are you trying to tell me you think Ginny would have turned Harry in?" he snapped at her, barely keeping his rage in.  
  
"NO! I'm merely looking at both sides of the situation," Hermione said fiercely, and then looked around at the assembled Aurors. "The fact is, we don't know what happened. We have bits and pieces of the story and that's not good enough. We need hard facts and leads that we don't have yet. Who discovered Ginny hadn't showed up in Dublin?"  
  
"Aphrodesia Shawnessey, one of our operatives in Dublin, was waiting on her to show two nights ago--Wednesday. They had appointed a specific time for her arrival by portkey and when that time passed and she didn't show, she sent an owl to our offices," Shacklebolt said heavily, his brown creased in thought.   
  
"What was she going to Dublin for?" Hestia Jones asked with a curious expression on her face.   
  
"A standard curse-breaking job on a set of Celtic objects someone had unearthed. It was a risk-free assignment, which is why Aphrodesia was the only one waiting for her to arrive. She wasn't in any danger, or at least she shouldn't have been," the Minister said.  
  
"Did anyone go to Ginny's flat and see if she was there?"  
  
"I did," Tonks spoke up, clearing her throat. "I flooed in, saw she wasn't there, and then Apparated at Grimmauld Place, which is when I met up with you two at Grimmauld Place. You know the rest from there."  
  
"Right. And you went for help while Hermione and I sifted through what was left. And since then has anyone found out ANYTHING AT ALL?" Ron asked, his temper flaring again.  
  
"Ron, you don't understand--there isn't anything to find. Ginny's just disappeared!" Tonks exclaimed.   
  
"There has to be something. Who was the last to see her?"  
  
"Probably Harry," Lupin spoke up in his quiet voice, blinking at them with his soft brown gaze. "He mentioned to me in passing that she was leaving for a few days and that they were having dinner Wednesday."  
  
"Was she going to Portkey out of Grimmauld Place?" someone from the crowd asked. Lupin shook his head.  
  
"That, I do not know. Does anyone know the object that was spelled for her use?"  
  
There was a rustle of papers and then Hestia Jones spoke up. "I sent a memo to the Portkey Office and they sent her paperwork up. It says here that she was assigned a teapot Wednesday afternoon to be activated at 7:15 pm, destination the Dublin branch of the Ministry. Standard portkey paperwork and everything seems in order. The only trouble is, it was activated but Miss Weasley never arrived at the correct destination--which means someone re-purposed it."   
  
"When did Shawnessey contact you, Kingsley?" Hermione asked, an expression of deep thought on her face.   
  
"She didn't. It was Edgecombe from the Portkey Office that send her owl up here. Shawnessey sent the Office a complaint, thinking that perhaps it was a failure of the portkey that had caused the delay."  
  
"When did Edgecombe get the owl?"  
  
"She didn't say, actually. She just said that she'd got an owl and thought I might like to know that Weasley hadn't showed up where she'd been expected." Kingsley's face looked rather dark for a moment as he thought about what he'd said. "She left in a hurry after telling me. I didn't stop her--I was too busy contacting the rest of you."  
  
"That's odd, to say the least. Where is Edgecombe now?" Hermione asked, looking around at them all. Suspicion had risen among them suddenly. They'd dealt with too many spies not to immediately suspect someone's shady motives.   
  
"In the Portkey Office, I'd assume," Hestia Jones, said. "I'll got fetch her if you like."  
  
"Please, thank you Hestia," Arthur said, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as the dark haired witch left the room.   
  
"Why would Shawnessey just send an owl and not come here personally?" Ron asked in a tight voice.  
  
"Shawnessey couldn't floo to the Ministry, Ron, not from Dublin. And it was too far to Apparate, which is why Ginny was portkeying in the first place. Sending a letter by owl was the fastest way--and there was no way she could have known how important Ginny was--is and the seriousness of the situation," Hermione explained with a measure of impatience in her voice.   
  
"Fine. So we know she didn't arrive and that the portkey was activated. What we need is a lead--something, anything to tell us where she is!" Ron said, equally as impatient. He wanted to be doing something, not standing there talking about it. They'd wasted enough time already. "Is there any way to find out where the portkey went instead of Dublin?"  
  
"No, the only one who knows that is the one who spelled it in the first place, which according to the paperwork, was Edgecombe," Elphias Doge said with a wheezy growl. "Unless someone changed it after that..."   
  
"I have an idea--" Hermione interrupted before Ron could explode again. She exchanged looks with the Minister and then squared her shoulders. "Something I've been working on that couldn't hurt to try. I could find clues, if there are any, in Ginny's flat about where she might have gone."  
  
"There was nothing there, Hermione. Nothing I saw anyway," Tonks said, shaking her head.  
  
"You were in a hurry, Tonks. There might be clues that I can find that you wouldn't normally see at first glance."  
  
"Good idea Hermione," Arthur said, patting her shoulder and then turning back to the room full of Aurors. He opened his mouth to say something, but the sudden arrival of Hestia Jones in their midst stopped him. "Yes?"  
  
Hestia looked angry. "Marietta Edgecombe didn't show up for work this morning."   
  
There was a collective intake of breath.   
  
Arthur Weasley took a steadying breath and then ordered in a tight voice, "Hestia, Kingsley--get on it. Find Edgecombe and bring her in for questioning. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, I'm putting you in charge of Miss Weasley's case. Find her, please. As for the rest of you, its business as usual. There are other criminals to capture and leads to follow. I don't need to tell you how important this is now. We must weaken You-Know-Who's supporters any way we can. "   
  
And with that, the Minister of Magic turned on his heel and walked out of the cubicle, leaving the Aurors to their jobs. No doubt he had other worries on his mind. Everyone scattered, gathering papers and wands, still looking pale and worried, but no less determined to do the best they could.   
  
Ron turned to Hermione and he saw the nervous expression on her face. "I hope whatever you have up your sleeve is going to work this time, Hermione."  
  
"Me too..." she said and then bit down on her lip. "Me too."  
  
****  
  
From the Ministry's grand welcoming hall, Ron and Hermione flooed into Ginny's flat, which was situated in the heart of Diagon Alley above Quality Quidditch Supplies. Coughing slightly, Ron moved to dust the soot off of his robes, but Hermione grabbed his hand, stopping him.  
  
"Don't, you could upset the crime scene."  
  
"The what?"  
  
Hermione ignored him and stepped lightly into Ginny's sitting room, looking around with keen eyes. Ron stood by her side, feeling a horrible ache in his gut as he looked at his little sister's things. She'd moved in here the year before, having claimed she was too old to live at home anymore, making the Burrow officially an empty nest. The twins lived nearby; Bill in France and Charlie still worked with his dragons in Romania. Percy lived in London also, but they saw less and less of him as the years went by, which was probably for the better.   
  
He'd often wondered why she hadn't moved into Grimmauld Place with Harry, though. Another question without an answer. There were too many of those now.  
  
He choked on his thoughts, trying to ignore the hollow ache in his gut. Two of the most important people in his life had been ripped from him so suddenly, so horribly that he could barely wrap his mind around it. He looked hard at Hermione's proud form stooped over the davenport, examining the damask with narrowed eyes. As he watched, she opened her cloak, pushing them aside to reveal the large pack she had strapped on her hip.   
  
He didn't recognize half of the instruments and vials lined up on the pack in little holsters, but Hermione reached immediately for a small inner pocket, pulling out a pair of silver tweezers. Her face was set and hard, concentrated. He knew that look only too well.   
  
Watching her made him ache even more. She was all he had left and was suddenly very aware of the fact that she could be taken away in an instant. That thought made him weak in the knees and he resisted the urge to grab her by the hand and hold her as close to him as he could. He loved her so much sometimes that it hurt and right now she was probably the only thing keeping him from going crazy.   
  
"What are you doing, Hermione?" he asked in a weary voice as she combed over the davenport, peering at the dark silk for a moment before looking back up at him.   
  
"Finding clues. I mentioned this not too long ago. I wanted to try some Muggle techniques out, with a bit of a magical tweak to them. Muggles have surprisingly advanced ways of identifying guilty parties or victims by analyzing blood samples, hair, skin...almost anything."  
  
"And how is that going to help us?"  
  
"Well, it's likely that if someone was in here and there was a struggle, that they left clues behind."  
  
"If this is where they attacked her."  
  
"If they attacked her at all."  
  
"Hermione--" he began angrily, but she cut him off with a stern look.   
  
"Ron, we have to look at all sides. We have to be objective!"   
  
"No we don't! I can't be! Ginny is my sister and Harry was my best friend!"  
  
"He was mine too!"  
  
"If that's true then how can you act so calm right now? You've barely cried! Merlin, Hermione...are you made of stone?" he railed at her, seeing the hurt that suddenly sprang into her eyes.  
  
"I am certainly not made of stone, Ron. I'm just not thinking about it. I CAN'T think about it right now. Whenever I do I can't breathe and I start to panic. I cannot afford to panic right now; Ginny needs me. I'll cry later, after we find her," she said, the hurt in her eyes being pushed down and her mask falling back into place.  
  
"Hermione, you don't have to be so bloody strong all the time." His voice was soft and it carried over to her, where he saw her mask soften slightly.   
  
"Yes I do, Ron," she said and then turned back to the davenport. "There's nothing on the material, here. Do me a favor and go search her bedroom. Look for signs of a struggle or anything, really. Something that seems out of place."  
  
Ron nodded his head, glancing over his shoulder as Hermione got down on all fours, pulling out another strange instrument from her full pack and strapping it to her head. He looked back as he entered his sister's bedroom, suddenly aware of how much the place smelled like her. His gut knotted up as he saw the pictures on the walls of the family and of Harry and the four of them, of their years at Hogwarts and beyond.   
  
He schooled his emotions and looked around, trying to find anything, any clue as to what had happened. He circled her bed, frowning at the imprint of a body in the wrinkled duvet. The fluffy pillows were mashed down as if someone had fluffed them and then laid upon them. Taking a cue from Hermione, bent, looking for anything on the blankets.   
  
Two bright red strands of hair clung to the imprint on the pillows and he frowned as he picked them off, running them through his fingers, the sick feeling inside of him growing. So she'd lain here sometime before she'd left. He turned around, intending to call Hermione into the room to show her, but as he stepped forward, the toe of his battered boot struck something hard and lumpy jutting out from under the bed.  
  
Curiously he bent at the knees and grasped it, drawing it out from under the ruffled edge of the bedspread, where it had been hidden. His eyes widened as he looked at the object. It was a travel suitcase, one he recognized very well. Popping the clasps, he threw it open and frowned at the neatly folded pile of robes inside and the small bag of personal items--hairbrush, toothbrush, toothpaste, makeup and those daily necessities that a girl carried everywhere they went.   
  
This was Ginny's bag, the one she'd packed to bring with her to Dublin for a few days. Which meant--  
  
"Ron!"  
  
He leapt to his feet and tore into the sitting room, where Hermione was on the floor, an thoughtful expression on her face.   
  
"What is it?"  
  
Hermione's face was intent as she crawled along the floor peering hard. "I...I found...something," she said in an unsteady voice. He frowned and crossed the room, coming to a stop next to her.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Its...oh Merlin...its..." She looked down at her hand, where something was resting in her open palm. Something small and pink, with bits of red flecked on it. He looked harder, uncomprehending. "Its her fingernail..."  
  
He sucked in a sharp breath, finally getting it. He looked harder at the small, bloody thing, seeing the pink varnish on one side and the blood over the split, splintered thing. It looked as if it had been ripped from the cuticle. The air rushed out his lungs.  
  
"Where did you find it?" She gestured to the floor and he got to his knees beside her, following her finger. There on the floor next to the fireplace were three tiny scratches in the wooden floor. "What the hell happened there?"  
  
"It was buried here," she said, gesturing to the deepest furrow in the wood. He noticed the other scratches were less deep and not as long. "She clawed the floor here..." Hermione put her fingers on the deep scratches, lining it up so that her index finger rested on the deepest furrow. "She was dragged across the floor and she was trying to hold on."  
  
"Why is that scratch deeper and why are there only three of them?"  
  
"She put more weight on those three fingers. The index finger is the strongest finger on either hand with the exception of the thumb. When you're pulled, you claw like this..." He watched as she demonstrated, pushing hard and pulling her hand across the floor. "She pressed harder with her index finger, which is why her nail is embedded in the wood. She was desperate. See here?" She pointed to a tiny rusty stain on the floor. "That's where she lost the nail and that's where she let go."  
  
Ron felt his sick rising again. "How do you know its Ginny's nail?"  
  
"Its her color," Hermione said, a storm cloud passing over her face.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Her nail varnish. She always wore this color. Of course, that can be faked, so I'll have to do some tests on it," she said and then peered at the bloody fingernail in her palm again. "Did Ginny scratch a lot?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Growing up, when you'd fight--did she scratch?" Hermione asked in a serious voice. Ron thought back for a moment.  
  
"Yeah...yeah she did. We didn't physically fight much, but sometimes when she'd really get me going--why?" Ron's brow furrowed.  
  
"She might have scratched her attacker and if that's so, then there'll be skin cells beneath the tip of her fingernail that I can identify--get us a face to place on our enemy," Hermione explained grimly. "This is the only thing I've found, Ron. It's small, but its all we have. If there aren't any skin cells, we've hit a dead end again."  
  
"At least we can say that she was definitely taken by force. No one can accuse her of betraying anyone after this," Ron said.  
  
"It doesn't look like she went willingly, at least."   
  
"Not just that, but I found her bag in the bedroom. It was half-hidden under the bed, which means she meant to depart from here and didn't do it prepared," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"And someone tried to hide the bag?" Hermione asked, placing the fingernail in a vial from the packs on her hip and pushing a cork stopper in the top.  
  
"They didn't do a very good job of it if that's what they were trying--I hit it with my foot," Ron said.  
  
Hermione made an interested sound in her throat, but her attention was on her packs again. "Bring me Ginny's cauldron."  
  
He immediately brought it over, placing it in front of his girlfriend, who was pulling spell ingredients out of what he was beginning to think was the magically enlarged insides of her packs. He followed her directions, adding pinches and splashes of liquids he recognized but had never seen in combinations together. The potion she was making was unknown to him and from the look of concentration on her face--she wasn't completely sure about it herself.   
  
The clear white liquid came to a rapid boil, a faint hiss of steam swirling in rapid circles over the surface and turning the air suddenly very warm. Ron felt sweat roll down his temple and he saw Hermione swallow hard. She exchanged glances with him and then ladled out two equal portions of the liquid into two shiny silver bowls that were smooth as glass.   
  
"What does this do, Hermione?" he finally asked, as she pulled out the vial with the fingernail inside of it. She emptied it into her palm, took out her tweezers and scraped at the tip of the broken, split thing. She smeared the scrapings on a thin piece of glass and placed it to the side.  
  
"Its a potion of my own making--never had a chance to test it. It should tell us if this belongs to Ginny or not in a pretty obvious way."  
  
He almost asked, 'what do you mean by obvious', but the words never got out. She dropped the fingernail into one of the shiny silver bowls and a great plume of silver gas escaped into the air, towering up to the ceiling.   
  
Hermione took a step back, grabbing his hand. He took it, following her gaze as the mushroom cloud of silver gas opened up from the middle, forming what looked like a portal in the air. And in the portal--  
  
Ron took a deep breath and stared at his sister's face, barely a glimmer, but very noticible in the gassy portal. He glanced at Hermione, but rather than looking triumphant, there were tears in her eyes. He touched her shoulder and she closed her eyes.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"The fingernail is hers, not unexpected," she said, reopening her eyes, the tears still there, but her voice had regained its impartiality, like what she was seeing meant nothing to her. He envied her that slightly. She let go of his hand and pulled her wand, waving it at the silver plume of gas, which immediately dissolved. The potion in the silver bowl had turned a muddy black and was stiff like tar. "Evanesco."  
  
The tar-like liquid dissolved, leaving the bowl smooth and reflective once more. Ron took a deep breath and touched her shoulder.  
  
"Now what?"  
  
"Now we see if Ginny left us any clues..." Hermione said distractedly, picking up the slide of glass with the scraping on it. She looked at it hard and then dumped it into the second bowl of potion. A great plume of silver gas erupted toward the ceiling just as it had the first time. She stepped back, holding her breath hard, her hands clutched to her throat. Her mouth was white with terror and nerves.  
  
Ron felt his stomach clench, felt his heart contract. This was it.   
  
The portal showed in the roiling cloud of silver and slowly, an image came into focus, faint, but unmistakable.   
  
Hermione gave a small scream, her hand over her mouth. Ron felt his anger rising.   
  
Through his teeth, he ground out, "Draco Malfoy."  
  
****  
  
The pub was smoky and close, the air dank and faintly smelling of sewer. He hated this place, hated the clientele so much his wand arm twitched at the very thought of cursing the Muggle nearest him just for a spot of fun. If only.   
  
He needed to keep a low profile though and as such, cursing a Muggle would blow his cover. He downed a shot of whisky--Muggle whisky and the cheap kind at that--and grimaced as it burnt a hole in his stomach. His face throbbed slightly and he lifted his hand to his cheek, sour expression crossing his pale, pointed face.  
  
She was late. Very late and that didn't please him in the least.  
  
His wand arm twitched again. He'd love to do something, ANYTHING to anyone...  
  
There was a crack that broke the muffled silence of the pub and head's turned in all directions, looking for the source of the noise. The shadows were so deep in the pub that the bleary eyes of the daytime drunks couldn't make out anything across the room.   
  
"You're late," he said sourly to the witch who had just Apparated with a crack next to him. She sat down with a swift movement, her face pale, curly hair unbound in her face. Her mouth was pinched and her eyes rolled wildly in their sockets.   
  
"I..."  
  
"You what?" he prompted, pushing a shot glass at her impatiently.  
  
"I'm having second thoughts about this," she said, her hands shaking as she reached for the glass. Amber liquid sloshed over the sides as she grasped it, then put it back down with a thunk of glass on wood. He laughed and slung his arm over her shoulder, leaning in close so she could smell the cheap alcohol on his breath.  
  
"I think it's too late to be having second thoughts, don't you?"   
  
"I...they're going to suspect something!" she said, unnerved by his closeness.   
  
"You have nothing to hide!"  
  
"That doesn't matter, they're always looking for spies these days. They don't trust anyone!" she said with a hiss. He laughed again, a slow sycophantic laugh that made her shudder beneath him.   
  
"They should, Marietta," he said as he closed his lips on neck and sucked hard on the skin. She gasped and shuddered hard against him. He pulled his mouth away and looked her straight in the eyes. "You will go back. Your presence in the Ministry is very important to the Dark Lord. You will be rewarded if continue to serve him as well as you have."  
  
"Its getting too dangerous...I can't..."  
  
He grabbed her around her neck in an instant, his slender fingers closing over her windpipe and squeezing. She choked and attempted to suck in air, but he tightened his hold, hauling her against him, his mouth on her ear.   
  
"You can and you will or I'll kill you. The fools you work for will only turn on you and you'll spend the rest of your life in Azkaban. It may not be as bad as it once was with the Dementors there, but I assure you, it's nothing like the life you're used to living. The Dark Lord will win this war and you'll be rewarded or punished in the end. Which would you prefer?"  
  
She choked, trying to pull his hands away from her throat. He let up slightly so she could answer and she pulled in a desperate breath. "Just tell me what to do!" Her tone was desperate.  
  
He laughed hard and kissed her hard on the lips. "Just go back to work and pretend ignorance. Your orders will come soon enough and you'll prove your worth to the Dark Lord." He let go of her neck and got up from the dark table. The Muggles in the pub hadn't noticed anything they were so drunk.   
  
"Where will you be?"  
  
He laughed hard and smiled slyly. "Taking care of beautiful girl who's really made a mark on me." He felt her eyes raked over the claw marks across his pale face and watched as she shuddered. "Remember, say a word to anyone and I'll make sure you suffer a fate worse than death. Understand?"  
  
"I...I understand," Marietta Edgecombe said in a shaky voice.   
  
"Good, I'll be seeing you." And with that, Draco Malfoy Disapparated with a crack, leaving her behind in the dark, smoky pub.  
  
(end chapter)  
  
**** 


	4. Chapter Three

Cicatrix (3/?)  
  
A/N: This is my "Harry and Ginny get horribly tortured" chapter. That would be a warning, by the way.  
  
****  
  
~The flash of red, bright blinding red. He thought it was a spell, but it wasn't. It couldn't be. He was stunned; it was true. Frozen to the core and burning up at the same time, rooted to the spot staring at the red, the blinding red he'd known so long...~  
  
A ragged breath escaped his parched lips and he shuddered and jerked against the bonds holding him, pain in every muscle and bone in his body. He felt hands on his hands, creeping shadow-like across his screaming shoulders and down, smoothing over his chest, where his heart beat weakly, blindly pumping blood into the open air from his many wounds. Fighting a losing battle.   
  
Her breath was horrible but getting more familiar as the hours passed, scraping rawly, hotly over the shell of his ear. His eyes rolled up in his head and he tried to escape back into the red...that blinding, stunning red that was a comfort and a torture.   
  
It couldn't be true. He refused to believe a word the snake said. But the snake was so sure and he was so weak...  
  
~He remembered sweat, the sweet tang of it flowing into mouths and eyes as bodies joined and fell apart, gasping and holding. He remembered red, tangled on white, in his fist, over his mouth and nose. He remembered breathing in and losing himself. He remembered taking each piece of offending clothing and peeling it away. He remembered the softness of arms and the spasm of bellies.  
  
Her breasts. His hands there, testing the weight, cupping and sliding down further. Her mouth on his forehead...~  
  
Her hot, offending mouth swept over his bruised, fevered cheek. Her tongue traced his scar and he shuddered while she laughed. High-pitched and cruel.   
  
"Tell me about her..."  
  
He could not stop it.  
  
~Her robes pooled around her hips and his fingers thrusting. The scrape of teeth and hands curled over the curves of her hips and thighs...  
  
Smooth skin flushed bright red. Why was it always red?   
  
He doesn't remember if he said it first or if she did, but once they said it, they couldn't stop, couldn't even begin to stop if they had wanted to.   
  
"I love you," a sweet tempting bow of a mouth said breathlessly, her hands fisted in the sheets, body splayed across his and he responded in kind over and over again, half-healed cuts and burns barely felt as he made love to her over and over again...~  
  
"I love you...I love you..." he said it, barely making sound, but she was so close she could hear everything. Her forehead touched his and she stroked her thin, clawed fingers across his cheeks. His mind raced in circles and he tried to stop it. The room was spinning, twisting and tumbling like a tornado.  
  
Blood rushed in his ears and he swallowed, gulping air, trying to regain control. All he could feel was pain and a slow burn somewhere close to his stomach...a hollow feeling that wouldn't ever be filled again. He doesn't think it can be.   
  
His eyes rolled back in his head and he felt rather than saw her smiling. Ice crept over his skin and he shivered. He was too warm and too cold at the same time. He felt swollen and shrunken. His brain felt like it was melting inside his skull, finally giving in after resisting for so long. And the snake twisted itself into knots and pried itself into places that were his, only his...  
  
"She betrayed you, Potter." A whisper of a voice.   
  
"No..." another croak, a weak, feeble reply. The world gave a sickening jolt. Her weight on his legs was crushing.   
  
Clawed fingers threaded through his hair, pulling from the roots. He'd loved that so long ago, when she'd do that, when she run her graceful white fingers through his hair and laugh. Fear and something deeper than sorrow gripped his body and he wanted to cry out but couldn't make the proper sounds. "Tell me more, Potter...tell me more..."  
  
He wouldn't. He couldn't. He kept his head down, but her nails dug into the skin of his cheeks and she forced his head up. Their gazes met and he was drawn, unwillingly, into the dead depths of her eyes...and down and down and down...  
  
The memories came unbidden, flashing like lighting across the inside of his eyes.  
  
~He'd passed the exams. He and Ron and Hermione. The three of them, Aurors, three years out of Hogwarts. The war was still raging, but they were prepared now, more than they'd ever been. He saw her standing there, to the side; smiling and he'd resisted the urge to...  
  
Two months later. A Dementor attack in Hogsmeade. They'd only driven them back and Hermione was saying something about finding a proper spell to kill them, once and for all and then Dolohov had been suddenly there and he lifted his wand and Ron was throwing curses...  
  
Christmas at Grimmauld Place and he'd woken up in the night, terrified and she'd been there, there with hands he wanted to touch, but they held back...always held back, afraid...  
  
Screaming. He couldn't remember when or how. It might have been Dudley. Dudley screaming. He remembered the taste of vomit in his mouth, but nothing else. ~  
  
"More, Potter. Give me more," she said and he grit his teeth and tried to stop her. Push her away...push her away, but he couldn't.   
  
He couldn't...  
  
~Hogsmeade in flames. The Three Broomsticks blew and he'd run through the streets screaming, terrified, dodging curses from fleeing Death Eaters who were so bold, their masks black vortexes in the flickering fires. He'd plunged in without thought, jumping flaming beams and there'd been two bodies--two burned bodies that were too big, much too big....  
  
There was another and he grasped it with trembling hands, rolling the burned, silent husk over. Neville's face. Neville. Not her...  
  
Dumbledore in the circle of Death Eaters, robes burning...and then Lord Voldemort and the blinding crack of light that had torn through his body and he'd been slammed against the wall of the Great Hall. He' d screamed and he'd known that he was gone...  
  
That first time in that dirty flat. He'd been such a coward and she'd only held him, made love to him, given him everything. Given him her loyalty and her promise...  
  
"I'm going to get everyone killed."   
  
"No you won't--know how I know?" she'd said with a slight smile, a smile that burned him up from inside.  
  
"How?"   
  
"Because I have loved you too long to lose you now. Voldemort is going to have to go through me to get to you--and I don't give up so easily," she said and he'd laughed...why had he laughed? "I love you."  
  
"I love you too, Ginny. No matter what," he'd whispered, holding tighter, bringing her closer. "I love you."~  
  
He collapsed in the chair, his chin brushing his chest. He hurt too much to protest the pain in his shoulders and ribs as he breathed shallowly, wishing that he were free of this. He wanted to die. He didn't want to think of these things, to feel this...  
  
One talon-like nail slid beneath his chin, lifting his head up with a wrench. "Don't give up on me now, Potter. We're not done yet...no, no, no. Not done by far. I want to know more. Tell me everything."  
  
"Get...get out of m-my head you fucking bitch!" Harry managed through his thick, dry tongue, shaking so hard the chair rocked on its legs. She smiled widely and kissed the tip of his nose. He didn't even have the strength to move away. Disgust swept through him. Before he could stop the question, it burst out of him. "Where is she? Where is Ginny?"  
  
Bellatrix smiled her wicked wolf grin and stood, her wand in her fingers. "Why don't you ask my nephew?"  
  
Harry's mind stuttered, wheels turning, attempting to comprehend what she'd said. "What do you m-mean?"  
  
But Bellatrix just twirled her wand and then pointed it at his head. He knew what was going to happen before the spell passed her lips. He braced for the pain and when it came, he lost himself to it once more...almost grateful for it.   
  
Soon the pain would take him completely and he wouldn't have to feel anything ever again.  
  
****  
  
The gathering of Aurors in the Ministry was smaller than the one they'd had that morning, but the room felt crowded nonetheless. Ron was walking circles in the floor, his hands squeezed into fists so tight that his knuckles were stark white. His brown eyes were slits of fury in his white face, freckles stark against the skin. A flush was rising up the back of his neck, bleeding into his hair, which was tousled and wild. Normally Hermione liked it when he looked this way, but right now her stomach wouldn't stop twisting.   
  
She was sitting at her own desk; a small, neat thing nestled between Ron and Harry's own desks. Harry's desk...  
  
She looked away from the cluttered thing, away from the paperwork left unfinished and the ink blots on the wood, the handsome black quill stained by oil from his fingers...  
  
Anger formed a hard lump in her stomach but she forced it down. She had other things to worry about at the moment and dwelling on it wouldn't help. She needed to think.   
  
Arthur Weasley finally made his appearance in the office, tense and exhausted looking. The dark circles under his eyes had grown, giving him a haunted appearance. She was amazed by his strength though. His only daughter had gone missing and the man he'd considered like a son to him was--  
  
But she didn't want to think about that.   
  
Conversation erupted as soon as Arthur entered Auror Headquarters and he held up his hand, turning to Ron and demanding the information he needed. Ron told them all what they'd found in a tense voice. The Minister stared at his son, his balding red head held high. He nodded once and then turned to the rest of the Aurors with a serious expression on his face.  
  
"Draco Malfoy took my daughter. I want him found at all costs. Bring him in. Do we have any intelligence on his last known position?"  
  
Edric Blaire spoke up, pointing his wand at the large map on the wall behind him. "Two months ago he was spotted in Little Hangleton, but the village has been cleared by Aurors. We have wards on the old Riddle House and they haven't been tripped."  
  
"Wards can be fooled," Hermione said, speaking up. She stared at Edric as he nodded his head, ponytail swinging.   
  
"Granger's right. It wouldn't hurt to take a look, test the wards and take a look at things there. It wouldn't hurt to station an Auror there at all times..." Edric said, turning to the Minister.  
  
"We don't have the resources, which is why the wards are there in place. I want someone to go there though--Blaire...test the wards and check out the Riddle House. The rest of you...consider your other assignments cold cases. Find Draco Malfoy and bring that girl home," Arthur said, a vision of authority. Everyone took off for the second time that day and the Minister turned to Hermione. "Hermione, I cannot thank you enough--"  
  
"Just doing my job, sir. I wish I didn't have to test my new techniques on this particular case, but I'm glad they worked. At least we have a suspect. Which reminds me--what about Marietta Edgecombe?" Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest. Ron made an angry noise in the back of his throat and continued to pace the floor.   
  
"I haven't heard back from Kingsley or Hestia yet. As soon as they find her, they're bringing her back here for questioning. It could be nothing, but we want to ask her a few questions about that Portkey she issued Ginny. From what you've found out though, I think Malfoy was the one who re-purposed the teapot."  
  
Hermione's lips pursed. This certainly sounded like sense to her. The evidence all pointed to it...but something itched at the back of Hermione's mind. She was used to this itch; it was familiar. It made her mind whir and click, made her flip through the warehouse of knowledge she seemed to have stored in her head to find the source, the detail, the page number. She flipped pages in her brain and discovered the source of the click.  
  
She didn't trust Marietta Edgecombe. Never had. She remembered entirely too well the spell she'd used on the member list of the D.A. in their fifth year and the result. Marietta couldn't be trusted. She'd been a sneak then and sneaks didn't change their spots.   
  
Hermione had made damned sure of that.  
  
"What is it, Hermione?" Ron had caught the expression on her face and he forgot his own anger for a moment to focus on her.   
  
"Its nothing. Just thinking." She opened her mouth to ask Arthur something, but stopped, her expression darkening. Ron followed her gaze and turned to face the doorway, where Marietta Edgecombe stood, dwarfed by Kingsley Shacklebolt's large frame.   
  
"Oh, speak of the devil. Miss Edgecombe, please come in and have a seat," The Minister said, as if Marietta had much of a choice. Kingsley steered her inside and pushed her hard into an empty chair, where the curly-haired witch shrank into herself, looking very white and nervous. Hestia Jones trailed in after them holding Marietta's wand in her fingers.   
  
"Where was she?" Ron asked, sitting down on the edge of a desk, his face stormy. Hermione just watched Marietta as she smoothed her hands over the folds of her purple velveteen robes, her hands shaking ever so slightly. That might be nothing or it could be something. She wasn't the best at reading other people's emotions and knew it. But Marietta had always been an open book and now shouldn't be any different.  
  
Her small eyes shifted to and fro, carefully avoiding meeting anyone's gaze. She seemed to pretend not to have heard Ron's question.  
  
"Her flat," Hestia answered, still standing in the doorway as if blocking the exit (which she was in fact doing).   
  
"And why weren't you at work today?" Arthur asked, rubbing his lightly stubbled chin with his thumb. Marietta glanced up, opened her mouth for a moment and then closed it with a snap. "What was that, Miss Edgecombe?"  
  
"I--I'm sorry, sir. I wasn't feeling well this m-morning and I had a sick day saved up so I...I...I took it and…well what is this all about?" Marietta answered, looking up through her eyelashes at the rest of them.   
  
"Why didn't you report that you were taking a personal day by owl post to your supervisor?" Kingsley asked in his deep voice.  
  
"I did!" Marietta insisted. "Ask Mr. Basil!"  
  
"I already have," Hestia said, still standing in her defensive position at the doorway. "He received it in this morning."  
  
"Okay...then what is this about? Did I do something wrong? I didn't think getting a touch of the flu fell under Auror jurisdiction," Marietta said, seeming to grow bolder. She sat up in her chair and hazarded a glance up at Kingsley. "I'd like to know why I'm being questioned if you please."  
  
"That owl you received from Mrs. Shawnessey Thursday...what time did you recieve it?" Kingsley asked, peering hard at her. She visibly thought for a moment, pursing her lips and looking into space.   
  
"About a half an hour before I brought it to your attention Mr. Shacklebolt sir. Why?"   
  
"I'll ask the questions here, Miss Edgecombe," Kingsley said, glancing at Arthur for input, but the Minister remained silent. Ron was pacing again, throwing disgruntled looks at Marietta every two seconds. He seemed ready to rip out of his skin. "How long have you worked in the Portkey Office?"  
  
"Nearly four years, sir. My mother works in the Floo Network office," she said this as if that should settle the matter.   
  
"What item did you spell for Ginny Weasley's use and what location did you assign to that object?"  
  
"A teapot, sir. The location was set for the Dublin branch of the Ministry of Magic--specifically the International Office of Magical Cooperation. The time was set for 7:15 pm," Marietta said briskly, clasping her hands over her knees. Hermione watched her closely but didn't say anything.   
  
"In your four years of service in the Portkey Office, how many portkey's have you issued? Just make a guess, if you would?" Kingsley continued in his smooth baritone. Marietta put on her thinking face again (Hermione fought the urge to hiss like a cat at the airs she put on) and then declared her conclusion in a confident voice.  
  
"Nearly five hundred, I'd guess. Portkeys are regulated quite closely as you know, though its not hard to apply for one should you need it. Mostly we get vacationing wizards who don't wish to travel the Muggle way or to fly to their destination by broomstick. I--"  
  
She would have gone in that vain if Hestia hadn't interrupted. She cleared her throat and asked, "In five hundred portkeys, have you ever once made a mistake?"  
  
Marietta looked deeply offended. "Certainly not! I have a spotless record!"  
  
"Yes, so Basil tells me," Hestia said, glancing at Kingsley. Hermione had no trouble reading that look. Hestia and Kingsley turned to the Minister, who nodded his head. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, if you'd please..."  
  
Hermione nodded and pulled out her wand as the two senior Aurors and the Minister of Magic swept outside in the hallway to discuss Marietta's answers. Ron moved to block the door, his feet jangling as if he'd like to continue wearing circles in the floor. Hermione gripped her wand tightly and stared hard at Marietta, who seemed to be much more at ease now than when she'd entered.   
  
"How's the flu, Marietta?" She found herself asking. Marietta looked up and Hermione could plainly see the look of deep dislike in her eyes. Clearly, she remembered the D.A. incident too.   
  
Good.  
  
"Better. I...I took some Pepper-Up Potion and I seem to be on the mend. Thank you for asking, Hermione," Marietta said coolly, looking away quickly. Hermione continued to stare at her, that click and whir in her brain still going.   
  
"You smell like smoke," Hermione said shortly, sniffing the air. Marietta looked sharply back at her and she smoothed her hands over her robes again.   
  
"Well...you know how that potion is...all steam at the ears..."  
  
"That steam doesn't smell." Hermione said as Ron watched them, his brow furrowed. Hermione met his gaze for a split second and whatever he saw in her eyes put him on edge. He knew what she looked like when she was working something out and he knew enough not to get in her way. Or at least she hoped he did.  
  
"Well...I...hmm...that's odd…I don't smell anything!" Marietta laughed nervously, running her hand through tightly curled hair and shifting in her chair. Hermione continued to stare at her, her eyes narrowed to slits. Marietta shifted again and looked past Ron to the exit. "Wonder what's taking them so long...perhaps I should go check..."  
  
She moved to get up, but Hermione crowded her in the chair, pushing the taller girl back down with one hand. "Don't you worry about them."  
  
"Hermione--what are you?" Ron asked, but Hermione ignored him, getting into Marietta's white face.   
  
"What are you doing Granger?"   
  
Hermione ignored her question too and hissed in Marietta's face. "They're going to come back into this room and they're going to let you go, Edgecombe. They have nothing to keep you on."  
  
"Of course they don't! I haven't done anything!" Marietta said indignantly, though her voice shook slightly.   
  
"See, I think differently. Once a sneak, always a sneak," Hermione said and Marietta gave a high-pitched squeak, bringing her hands up to her face as if to hide something there. Hermione smiled. "If I find out you had anything to do with Ginny's disappearance--"  
  
"I didn't! I swear!"  
  
"Unfortunately I can't prove anything. Your portkey either malfunctioned or was re-purposed by someone who knew how. Either way, you get out of this nice and neat--but I'm watching you."   
  
Marietta lowered her hands and sneered, "Are you threatening me, Granger?"  
  
"Damn right I am. I don't like you and I don't trust you so you'd best keep your nose clean. I'm NOT in a good mood, as you can well imagine--"  
  
"I know about Harry and I'm sorry--"  
  
Hermione raised her hand, her temper flaring beyond recall. She nearly hit Marietta, who cringed away from the blow that never came. Ron grabbed Hermione's wrist and pulled her away from the witch in the chair.   
  
"Hermione...what are you doing?" he asked, gripping her arms tight. She was very white in the face with small rosebuds of red color in her cheeks.   
  
"She's a sneak, Ron!" she hissed, glancing at Marietta, who was glaring right back.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't you remember? The D.A.?"  
  
Ron finally realized what she was trying to say and he shook his head. "That was a long time ago, Hermione..."  
  
"It doesn't matter--"  
  
"Hermione, this isn't like you..."  
  
Hurt blossomed in her eyes as she stared at him. "What do you mean?"  
  
"You're not acting rationally."  
  
"Yes I am! I don't like her!" Hermione said loudly, knowing full well Marietta could hear her. She didn't care. Tears welled in her eyes and she fought them down. Ron noted them and touched her face, letting his own strength flow into her.   
  
"Are you sure she's what's making you upset?"  
  
"Of course!" A tear spilled down her cheek. Ron swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. His eyes were glistening and wet and Hermione fought the urge to crumple in his arms. They looked so strong and inviting and she wanted the warmth suddenly, had wanted it all day. But that would mean weakness and Aurors weren't weak. She had a job to do and she would cry later.   
  
"Hermione--" Ron started, but she broke free, charging back to her desk where she sat down stiff-backed in her chair. She glared at Marietta, who was watching her through her hair, still looking livid. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and refused to look elsewhere. Moments later Mr. Weasley, Kingsley and Hestia all swooped back into the room.  
  
"Thank you for you time, Miss Edgecombe. We're sorry to have taken up your time. You're free to go," Arthur said heavily as he stood aside. Hestia held out Marietta's wand for her to take. As she stood, Marietta shot Hermione a nasty, triumphant glare and then retrieved her wand. Hermione's lip curled.   
  
"You're welcome Minister. I'm always happy to help out with the war effort any way I can. I'm sorry about this whole incident. I hope Miss Weasley makes it safely home, especially now..." she trailed off, looking down at the floor in what Hermione guessed was supposed to be a sad gesture. She felt the urge to strike out at her again.   
  
"Thank you Miss Edgecombe," Arthur said, standing aside so she could go. The exit clear, Marietta made no haste in swishing out of it in a swirl of purple robes and dark, curly hair. The Minister looked at the four Aurors and cleared his throat. "I've filled you both in on the Malfoy situation. We have all our free Aurors on it--if he comes out of hiding, someone will find him. I especially want you two on it."  
  
Hermione nodded. "Of course, sir."  
  
"It's getting late though. I want you both to take a break and go to the Burrow for dinner."  
  
Hermione blanched. The very thought of stepping foot in the Burrow right now was almost too much to bear. The memories would be too much...and Mrs. Weasley was probably a wreck. She couldn't take that right now. Not when she was trying to hold on so damned hard.   
  
Ron must have been thinking along the same lines as she was because he made a noise of protest in his throat and spoke up. "Dad, we can't take time out to go to the Burrow. Not now. The longer we wait, the colder the trail gets. We've been lucky so far that Hermione found what she did in Ginny's apartment. If we wait--"  
  
"There are twelve Aurors looking for Malfoy now. You can spare to eat dinner with your mother. No buts, Ron. She needs both of you there," Arthur said in a tone that was final. Hermione gave a small sigh and nodded her head.   
  
"Yes, sir. Tell Mrs. Weasley we'll be there."  
  
Arthur nodded and then motioned for his two senior Aurors to follow him out the door. The swept from the cubicle and Ron made another sound of protest, wheeling on her. "Why did you say that? Now we'll have to go!"  
  
"There's no way we can't, Ron. You heard your father. She needs you!" Hermione said wearily, rubbing her knuckles across her eyes, which seemed very dry all of a sudden. Her stomach rumbled slightly and she realized she was hungry. "We need to eat at any rate and I'm in no mood to attempt to cook something."  
  
"Fine, but I still don't have to like it. I don't know if I can take Mum right now," Ron said. He sat down on Hermione's desk, mashing and scattering the neat stacks of papers. Hermione didn't care though. "I feel so...thin. Like I'm stretched across a drum and someone's beating on me and won't stop."  
  
"I know how you feel."  
  
Ron touched her shoulder. "Hermione, what was that with Marietta? Its obvious she didn't do anything--"  
  
Hermione's expression darkened. "Maybe, but you know I look at every side of the story--its what I do, no matter if I believe the other side or not. Well I've seen the other side of Marietta's story and she's a proven sneak. She turned us in once and I have no reason to believe she wouldn't do it again."  
  
"Yeah but she's never been accused of anything before. Turning us all in back at Hogwarts is hardly the same as turning Ginny over to the Death Eaters. Marietta's never come off as evil."  
  
"Not evil. Just weak. She's a follower. She goes where the power is and right now, its with Voldemort. The Death Eaters are getting bolder and now that Harry--she could turn on us," Hermione said fiercely as Ron sighed. "What?"  
  
"Nothing!" Ron said unconvincingly. She glared at him and he relented. "This isn't like you. Are you sure you're not letting your emotions get in the way? You've never liked Marietta and she certainly has a reason to dislike you, but..."  
  
"I'm too emotional?" Hermione exclaimed disbelievingly, standing. "Aren't you the one always telling me its okay to let it out? To cry if I want to?"   
  
  
  
"Yes, but--"  
  
"But what? Don't you trust my instincts, Ron? Have I ever been wrong?"  
  
"No, but--"  
  
"I'm telling you, I don't trust her. We may not be able to pin anything on the cow, but I think she needs to be watched," Hermione said, looking at Ron, who was still sitting on her desk. "If you won't support that--if you don't trust me..."  
  
Ron took her hand and drew her toward him.  
  
Their mouths met before she knew she desperately wanted him to kiss her. She'd craved it all day; the comfort, the soaring, the warmth of his mouth on hers. Ron's hands spread out over her shoulders and he pulled away, staring at her, measuring her in the way only he could. The confusing tumble and rush of thoughts and emotions tumbling through her body were suddenly pushed away.   
  
He was her anchor in a stormy sea and she clung to him, asking for strength.   
  
"I trust you, Hermione. I don't much like Marietta and if you think she needs to be watched, we'll watch her," he said grimly, nodding his head, looking very much like his father. "But what about Malfoy? We can't just leave him for the others."  
  
Hermione smiled without humor. "Don't worry about Malfoy. I have a feeling where Marietta is, Malfoy isn't far behind." Ron looked suddenly very interested, but she pulled away, glancing at the time on the wall. "We'd better get to the Burrow. Your mum is going to be in fits if we're late."  
  
Ron nodded, keeping hold of her hand. He looked at her flushed face and then asked in an uncertain voice, "Are you ready for this?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "As ready as I'll ever be."  
  
****  
  
"There once was a princess," he said into the darkness. "Whose kingdom was at war. This princess was the fairest in the land, sweet and gentle and true. She loved her family and was very loyal to them. But most of all, she loved the hero. But the princess was a fool above all else and she tried to save the hero's life. And the hero loved her so much that he let her try and save him. And so the dragon came for the princess and the hero and he snatched the princess up! And princess wouldn't tell the dragon where the hero was, but hark!--they said that a lot back then, you know--hark! The princess's love wasn't enough to save the hero and she let him be snatched by the dragon too. And do you know what happened then?"  
  
There was a deafening silence as he stopped, listening hard for signs of movement in the dark.   
  
The air was close and musty. He smelled the copper tang of blood on the air and breathed in deeply, letting the scent wreath into his nostrils. He closed his eyes and reached forward, blindly feeling a soft, warm curve in the darkness. A muffled whimper went up from beneath him and he smiled.   
  
"Do you know what happened then, princess? What that dragon did to them both?"  
  
Another whimper, though that time it might have been a genuine answer. He couldn't tell and didn't care. She'd make the proper noises when it was time.   
  
His questing hands found supple flesh and he squeezed hard, pulling magically bound arms up, dragging with the rough scrape of skin on pitted concrete. She made a noise of pain and he suddenly felt hard in places that ached.   
  
"What did that dragon do to the hero?"  
  
She whimpered angrily. So she knew this story, did she? He wondered if she knew the ending already...they'd already read this story after all.   
  
His hands found her tangled hair and he wrapped his fist in it, twisting her head upward so that she couldn't get away from the hot press of his breath on her gagged mouth. He kissed the gag hard so that she'd bruise on her lips.  
  
"He ate the hero, the one the princess loved so much she let him die. But she couldn't save herself. Meat for the beast and all that." He chuckled to himself and dragged her into his lap. The cheap whisky he'd downed in the bar was making his head throb. He felt dizzy and hungry.   
  
She was supple and warm and she smelled bloody. He dragged his hand up one exposed thigh, up into the folds of her bunched, torn robes where heat radiated, fire on icy skin.   
  
She whimpered again and this time it sounded like a plea. He liked it when she said please. She'd said please when he'd snapped her wand and dragged her screaming out of her flat. The broken portkey was in pieces beneath her head, fine china ground to dust by her thrashing.   
  
He was amazed she still had the fire to resist. She should have been broken by now. He'd done enough to her mind to get what they'd needed out of her. Oh, she hadn't wanted to tell, had tried to keep it inside, deep down...  
  
But he was very good at finding out secrets and he'd dragged it out of her and sent dear old Auntie to take care of the job for him. And, oh, he must stop in and see how that's going! After he got done there.  
  
He smiled and thought it might take a while after all. She was soft and so warm and so helpless. Like a rabbit hiding from a wolf.  
  
"Tell me, what did the dragon do to the princess?" He ripped her gag out of her mouth and he knew she knew by now that screaming was useless. She'd learned that after the first round. "Answer me, princess...what did the dragon do?"  
  
She took a deep breath and he waited for his answer.   
  
"Fuck. You."   
  
He laughed and then drew back his hand, slamming it hard across her cheek. She fell off his lap and landed on her back on the hard concrete, knocking the breath out of her. She tried to scoot back a few inches, to get away from him.  
  
He was on her in an instant, laughing as he pinned her to the hard ground. He leaned forward, rubbing his scratched cheek along hers.   
  
"Exactly right, princess," he said to her neck as she shuddered away from him. "Exactly right."  
  
And for a while, he was too busy to tell stories.  
  
**** 


	5. Chapter Four

Cicatrix (4/?)  
  
****  
  
The Burrow was warm and welcoming when it had no right to be. The fire crackling in the hearth should have been colder somehow, not crackling away sending warmth throughout the kitchen. The familiar objects and warped walls were no different from before, when they were a whole family.   
  
It made Ron's stomach clench painfully as he sat at the kitchen table nursing a mug of tea his mother had placed in front of him. Hermione was at his elbow, quiet, her eyes following the steady swirl of the spoon she'd been mixing her sugar into her tea with for the past five minutes. Her dinner was uneaten before her and he didn't blame her for not touching it.   
  
Food was not his main concern, even though his stomach gave a rattle against his spine. He took a bite of chicken to appease it, but didn't force anything else down. The table was mostly quiet and that seemed wrong too. Weasley dinners were loud, boisterous affairs, not funeral wakes. This felt like one though and he desperately wanted to get up and leave.  
  
Fred and George sat opposite him and both had the same expression on their faces. Numb disbelief. George was making a small dent in his mashed potatoes with the curve of his spoon, but not eating as well. Fred kept drinking his tea with quiet abandon, possibly just to keep his lips busy. His father still wasn't home yet and his mother was bustling around the kitchen making domestic noises that felt as hollow as Ron's chest.   
  
"So...have you found out anything else?" George said, his lower lip trembling. The light had left his brown eyes and Ron imagined his eyes must look the same. Fred took another loud swallow of lukewarm tea.   
  
Ron exchanged a look with Hermione, but her expression was unreadable. He cleared his throat and looked back at George, who was looking at him with a hopeful expression on his face.   
  
"Just what I've told you, George," he replied, glancing at the sink where his mother's back was stiff and unyielding. "No one knows what happened at Grimmauld Place, but we think Harry's dead."  
  
And Merlin's beard, how it hurt to say that out loud.   
  
"But there's no evidence, right? He could still be alive...right?" George continued hoarsely, pushing his spoon into his mashed potatoes again. His hands trembled slightly, a quake in them.   
  
Hermione looked up and said softly, "The mansion was blown apart, George. His wand and his glasses were there and there was blood too. Its just not possible..."  
  
"How can you, of all people, say that Hermione?" Fred said sharply, putting his cup of tea down with a bang, brown liquid sloshing over the sides and speckling the tablecloth. "There's a chance he's alive and you know it!"  
  
"Of course there's a chance, Fred. I didn't say there wasn't. But that chance is slim, almost non-existent. Its just not realistic," she said through pursed lips.   
  
Fred and George stared at her in disgust.   
  
"You are one cold bitch, Hermione," Fred said softly, his eyes cold and blank. Ron dropped his own cup of tea with a crack and moved to stand.  
  
"Leave her alone, Fred! She's right and you know it!" Ron shouted angrily, his knuckles white as he clenched the edge of the table.   
  
"What about Ginny?" George shouted, standing and facing his younger, taller brother. His mussed red hair crackled with anger as it stood on end.   
  
Ron felt his stomach clench again, crowding his throat with acid. "What about her?"   
  
"Why the hell didn't you tell us she was his Secret-Keeper? HOW could you let her do it?" George asked through gritted teeth, his eyes flashing. Fred stood up beside him and they were like two identical sentinels before him. Ron looked between them.  
  
"Because it wasn't my secret to tell. That was between Harry and Ginny," Ron answered in a tight voice. Fred made a sound of protest in his throat. "It wasn't my doing!"   
  
"Right, and you couldn't have stopped them both? You're his best mate and you're HER brother. You could have stopped them, talked some sense into them. Anything! You let this happen Ron," Fred said, glaring daggers into his little brother.   
  
Tears welled up in Ron's eyes. "You both think that way?"  
  
"Yes," the twins answered in unison. "We blame both of you. Hermione did the Fidelus Charm for them. And YOU let her."  
  
Hermione stood at Ron's elbow, placing one hand on his broad shoulder. "That's fine. Blame us all you want. It doesn't change what's happened."  
  
"No, it doesn't. Like it doesn't change how we feel. Harry and Ginny are alive," George said with a snarl of certainty in his voice. Ron glanced at Hermione.  
  
"There's no way to know that. All the evidence points to--" Hermione started.  
  
"Evidence? Who cares about evidence? Its what we feel! Ginny isn't dead, just like Harry isn't either!" Fred said, putting his own hand on his twin's shoulder. Both brothers glanced at each other, fire in their eyes where once there was such bleakness. Ron sighed heavily.   
  
"I wish I could feel the same, but I can't change what's happened. If Harry and Ginny are still alive, the Death Eaters have them. Voldemort has them and getting them back is not going to be easy," Ron said, staring his brothers down.   
  
"Of course it won't be easy, you stupid git! Which is why we're helping you from now on!" Fred said in a hard voice. George nodded his head.   
  
"You need people of integrity--"  
  
"Intelligence--"  
  
"Devastating good looks--"  
  
"And willing to see this as a salvage mission, not a murder case," Fred finished with a grin. George smirked beside his brother.   
  
"It IS a murder case, Fred!" Ron said hotly.  
  
"No its not. How many times do we have to say it? They're not dead. Period," George said as Fred crossed his arms over his chest. "Now let us help!"  
  
"This investigation is already under the control of the Aurors--"  
  
"No offense Hermione, but sod off!" Fred said with a bloodthirsty smile. "My little sister is alive somewhere and she needs me. I won't stay out of this. And its you lot that got her into this in the first place!"  
  
"We did not--" Ron began but Hermione put her hand on his shoulder. She turned her solemn brown gaze onto the twins and nodded her head.  
  
"Fine. But you follow our orders and if you get any leads, you tell us. We're the Aurors here, not you. Understand?"  
  
"Understood, captain," George said, saluting her with a mock wave. "Now what--"  
  
George was cut off by the crack! that went through the kitchen, making everyone turn at the sound of the noise. Standing like a pale shadow beside the stove was Percy, whose eyes were darkly shadowed and bleak behind his glasses.   
  
"Hello," he said softly, wincing as he looked each of them in the eye. "Father told me to stop by for dinner."  
  
Ron glanced at his mother, who had turned around at the sound of Percy Apparating. Tears were coursing down her face and she gave a great hiccup. Ron winced. He'd never seen her look so sad, so devastated. He wondered if she'd been listening to their conversation and realized she probably was. This must be so hard on her, losing both Ginny and Harry, whom she thought of as a son.   
  
Now Molly Weasley was staring at her third-born son, whose face was so rarely seen in the Burrow. He was almost a stranger to them all. Ron felt a sudden upsurge of hatred toward his older brother and felt his fists clench at his side. He glanced at Fred and George and saw identical expressions on their faces.   
  
"Dad had to tell you to stop by, huh? Couldn't have figured it out on your own?" Ron asked with a growl of disgust. Hermione's hand went to his wrist, but he shook her off. He wasn't in the mood to be mollified by her.   
  
"Ron, don't--not now!" Molly Weasley said harshly through her tears. She looked old all of a sudden. Old and tired. Ron remembered suddenly what Harry had told him long ago about his mother's greatest fear. It had suddenly come terrifyingly true and she was horribly diminished because of it. Ron wanted to hug her and do what she asked, but he couldn't.   
  
"No, Mum. Ron has a point!" Fred said, glaring at Percy. Percy shifted uncomfortably in place, his hands clasped in front of him. "If Dad hadn't told you to come, would you have?"  
  
"I...well I..."  
  
"You what?" George pressed through stiff lips. Percy lifted his chin and glared at them.   
  
"I wasn't sure I was wanted here," he said with a sniff.   
  
"Could that be because you're not? You gave up on this family a long time ago!" Ron said, crossing the room to stare his older brother down. Percy was built like Ron and the roughly the same height, but Ron had more muscles, which he flexed as he clenched his fists at his sides. Percy's eyes widened. "Why don't just you leave, Perce?"  
  
"I...I care about Ginny too!" Percy said in an anguished voice and tears rose in his eyes. "I care!"  
  
Ron punched him before he could stop himself, his fist colliding with Percy's cheek. Percy's head reeled backward and he stumbled against the stove, knocking the pan of gravy to the floor with a clatter and a splash. He sank to his knees, his hand on his face.   
  
"Ron!" Hermione and his mother screamed at the same time. Hermione crossed the room and helped Percy to his feet, glaring daggers at Ron.   
  
Ron glared right back and then turned his attention on Percy, whose cheek was already bruising. He swallowed hard, "I do care, Ron."  
  
"I know you do Percy," Ron said, suddenly feeling very sick. He saw the tears in Percy's eyes and the bruise on his freckled cheek. The hatred seeped out of him suddenly, leaving him tired and depleted in the kitchen. His mother was sobbing again and George had put his arms around her. He expected him to be looking accusatorily at him, but George's expression was unreadable. Fred however, looked pleased.  
  
"I'm sorry...about Harry," Percy said, looking at the floor beneath his feet. Hermione touched Percy's shoulder, her eyes huge and glistening. Ron suddenly did not want to be there in the Burrow. He didn't want to hear his family's voices, hear the sorrow in them. Pain wasn't part of his family and this felt wrong.   
  
"We shouldn't have come here..." Ron said softly, closing his eyes tight. "I'm sorry Mum...for everything. I...I have to get out of here."  
  
And with that, he Disapparated with a crack, leaving them all behind. His eyes opened and he was back in his flat, staring at the dark walls, his stomach in knots. After several moments, there was another crack and the smell and presence of Hermione was suddenly in the dark room.   
  
"You shouldn't have done that. Your mother--" Hermione began, but he cut her off.  
  
"I know, Hermione. Save the lecture will you?" he said softly, turning around to face the dark shadow of that was Hermione. The light from outside made a halo of her hair and he suddenly felt the urge to bury his face in it and hold her close. "I'm so tired."  
  
"Ron we have to talk about the twins, about what we're going to do with them. They want to help and we can't--"  
  
"We'll let them, won't we? You know they have more connections than we could ever dream of. Maybe they can go through their channels and find something or someone who knows something. Anything. Maybe they'll know where Malfoy is. Maybe lots of things. Just don't try to tell them not help, Hermione. If I was them, I'd want to help too and there'd be nothing anyone could do to stop me," Ron said to her in a soft voice. She sighed and hung her head.  
  
"Fine, but the investigation is still under our control. I don't want them in the fight--they're not trained like we are. They could get hurt and if that happened your mum would..." She couldn't finish it, but Ron knew perfectly well what she meant. Molly Weasley could not take it if something happened to another one of her children.   
  
"I'll owl them in the morning and tell them what we want. Right now, I'm tired. Its been a long day," Ron said, sliding his robes off his arms. He didn't wait for her as he crossed the dark sitting room. "Goodnight."   
  
He left her in the sitting room.  
  
****  
  
Draco Malfoy felt the hard rub of the handsome wooden floor beneath knees. His breath made the black mask stretched over his face warm and moist. All around him he could feel the bodies of the other Death Eaters as they pressed in, bowing low in reverence to their leader. Draco's left forearm burned, making tears well up in his eyes. He bit his lip against it and then felt it diminish slightly as the mark faded from black to red.   
  
"Stand."   
  
Everyone followed the command, moving automatically into a circle around their leader, whose cold snake-like visage drew each of them in. Draco was powerless to look away. A smile curled his lips.   
  
"My Death Eaters today is a new day. The boy who many witches and wizards believe was my downfall has been murdered," the Dark Lord said in his clear voice. An excited murmur went through the throng of Death Eaters. Draco's jaw clamped tight as he looked questioningly at his Master. His stomach gave a sudden jerk as the Dark Lord turned in his direction. Their eyes met and Draco had to look away, feeling an awful burn in his head. Draco wisely held his tongue.  
  
Evidently the Dark Lord did not want it known that Potter was alive. Draco wondered for a moment what he had planned, but let it go. The Dark Lord's plans were his own. Draco would merely follow him.  
  
"How was this possible, My Lord?" one of the Death Eaters asked in an awed voice. Voldemort's attention swept in his direction and his pale face lifted. "We knew not his Secret-Keeper..."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy and an agent in the Ministry made it possible, young Nott. He brought Potter's Secret-Keeper to me and we...persuaded her to give up Potter's location."   
  
Draco smiled despite himself. Oh yes...they'd persuaded Weasley. Draco most of all.  
  
"Who was it?"  
  
But the Dark Lord didn't answer. His attention was elsewhere. His head was cocked to the side, listening. Calmly, he said, "There is an Auror outside this building. Would someone fetch him for me?"  
  
Draco's eyes widened as two Death Eaters split from the circle, charging out of the house to do as the Dark Lord commanded them. Voldemort did not watch them go. His gaze was back on Draco, who was forced to look up into his master's face as he felt the weight of his slitted eyes.   
  
"Mr. Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange are to be rewarded for their services in capturing Harry Potter and his Secret-Keeper. Honor them above all others."  
  
Draco looked around for his Aunt Bellatrix, but her familiar form was not in the mass of black-clad, masked Death Eaters. The other Death Eaters did not seem to notice this as they bowed low before Draco. Draco nodded his head solemnly, putting his fist over his heart as he did so.   
  
"My Lord, what of the Ministry?" someone else asked eagerly, eyes shining in their mask holes.  
  
"No doubt they are trying to keep our deeds secret. The death of Harry Potter will come as a shock to the rest of the weak wizards and witches of our world and they will panic. The Ministry of Magic will want to stop this. That is why I have gathered you all together. Now is our time of triumph," Lord Voldemort said as he eyed them all. "We move in the open now. No more secret skirmishes and inconsequential battles. Now we march on the Ministry of Magic and make it ours."  
  
Another murmur went through the crowd. Fear, apprehension, excitement. The final battle was upon them. Draco felt his blood rush through his veins at the thought. It had finally come!   
  
"When?" someone cried lustily, the thirst for blood and power already upon them. Draco took a sharp breath. The Dark Lord smiled indulgently.   
  
"Soon. We must strike the Ministry when they are weakest. When they are dealing with the consequences of Potter's death, when the rest of the wizarding world has no hope left."  
  
"But we have already done this, Master! Why do we not strike now?" a female cried from behind Draco.   
  
Voldemort nodded his head slowly. "We rule with fear, Zabini. First fear to make the killing sweeter. We take their hope first," Voldemort explained, turning in a slow circle to meet the gazes of each of his Death Eaters in turn. Draco was again caught in his gaze as it swept his way. It did not linger this time though and he was let go immediately. "Spread the word of Potter's death. Let them know the end is coming."  
  
"How?"  
  
"The iDaily Prophet/i," Draco spoke up immediately, boldly. "There has been nothing in the iDaily Prophet/i. We start there."  
  
Voldemort's attention was back on him and Draco felt the dark rising of power in him that commanded so much respect and fear. Before him was the greatest wizard that ever lived. The wizard who had killed Albus Dumbledore. Draco felt an upsurge of pride and fear. Lord Voldemort's red eyes were wide and pleased.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy is right. The iDaily Prophet/i is our first target. Panic the masses, my Death Eaters. Then feed on the fear."  
  
"Then we hit the Ministry? We end it?"  
  
"Yes, Flint. We end it. The Ministry cannot stop us any longer. We are beyond death! We are life everlasting!" Voldemort cried as the doors swung open once more. The two Death Eaters that had left earlier came in dragging a bloody body between them.   
  
It was a wizard with long hair, which had been torn out of a ponytail. His dark uniform was torn and wounds showed in the splits of the cloth. Draco vaguely recognized him and thought his name might be Blaire.   
  
The Auror groaned as the Death Eaters tossed him to the ground at Voldemort's feet. Another murmur went through the group, one of excitement and hushed hisses. Draco's eyes narrowed on the enemy before him.   
  
Blaire or whatever his name was, looked up through his long, tangled hair. One eye was swelling shut. He coughed weakly and blood showed on his lips.   
  
"Who...what?" he tried to say, squinting at them all as if not seeing them. Draco understood immediately; he could not see them because of the Fidelus Charm Voldemort had placed on his Death Eaters. That was probably why the two Death Eaters had not a scratch on them; he could not see what was attacking him. Draco wanted to laugh. "Who's there?"  
  
"I believe you mean, what is there, do you not?" Voldemort said, crouching before the bloody Auror and touching his face. "You are in the lair of the beast. Open your eyes and behold your Master."  
  
Understanding and comprehension flooded Blaire's swollen bloody face as the world came into focus. The spell lifted, he could see where he was, what was in front of him. Horror blossomed in his eyes and he tried to move away from Voldemort, who laughed high and shrill.   
  
The other Death Eaters laughed too and Draco felt a swoop of hot pleasure fill him. He'd seen this scene often, been the cause of it many times and wanted to see it done properly by a true artist. But Voldemort did not draw his wand.   
  
He stood and faced his Death Eaters once more. "Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
Draco met the Dark Lord's gaze and something hot thrust through his brain. He needed no more than that. Draco nodded, his head pounding. He had his orders and they were meant to be carried out immediately.  
  
"Right away, My Lord," Draco said, bowing low once more. No one commented as he disengaged from the group and headed out toward the door.   
  
As he left the room, he heard the Dark Lord's voice heavy with amusement say, "I need a volunteer."  
  
****  
  
It was unbearably silent in the bedroom and Hermione could not sleep. Images kept flashing across the inside of her eyelids. The gouges in Ginny's floor. The horrible fingernail embedded in the wood. Draco's face in the plume of smoke. Mrs. Weasley crying. Marietta's daring eyes.   
  
She shifted, rolling over to face the warm expanse of Ron's back. He was breathing deeply, but she doubted if he was asleep. She should have taken the dreamless sleep potion and knew it, but she refused to put off dreaming any longer. Sleep was elusive though.   
  
She felt restless deep in her bones. Restless and longing for arms around her, comforting her.   
  
She touched Ron's wide, freckled back, running her fingers up the curve of his spine. His muscles jumped beneath her fingers and he stirred a little, making the mattress bounce beneath them ever so slightly.   
  
He hadn't said a word to her since they'd Apparated back from the Burrow and he'd gone to bed. She wasn't going to stand for that. She was hurting too. She wanted comfort and she knew he needed it too.  
  
She slid her hand around his side, smoothing over muscles and the soft curve of his hip where his jockey shorts created a line beneath the blankets. Ron took a sharp breath, but didn't move any more. Hermione shifted closer, her breasts flush with his back, her breath stirring the long red hair falling across his neck.   
  
She could make out his eyes in the darkness. They were open and they glittered like beetles beneath his golden lashes. She watched the glittering points of light carefully as her mouth descended on the curve of his shoulders. She kissed his tangy skin lightly and felt him shift against her. He didn't turn over though.   
  
She kissed up his shoulder to his neck, and then to the shell of his ear. A light flush of gooseflesh rose in the wake of her mouth and she smiled to see it. Her lips closed on his earlobe and she sucked lightly, the hand on his hip working beneath the blankets. His skin was warm and inviting and the hair running a line from his navel downward was curly and soft as she ran her fingers through it.   
  
She slipped her fingers farther down, finding the elastic band of his jockeys and sliding the tips of her fingers inside. His hips surged against her hand and she smiled again.   
  
"Ron..." she whispered against his neck, seeing the flicker of his eyes. "Make love to me..."  
  
He turned at that, his head twisting to the side to face her. His eyes were huge and filled her gaze. She leant forward on his shoulder and kissed him slowly as they both shifted in the bed until he was beneath her and she was lying across his chest. His hand was in her hair; thumb rubbing the back of her neck. His other hand drifted toward her hip, where he clenched hard.   
  
His lips were soft and warm, her tongue sliding along the curve of his bottom lip. He pulled her head closer, angling his head to the side so he could thrust his tongue into her mouth, slowly, drawing little sounds from her throat at the hot, wet feeling that made everything inside her clench and let go.   
  
She was wearing a shift, a thin white thing that ended at mid-thigh. Not terribly romantic, but that had never mattered to Ron. Now he worked his hand up the back of it, skimming the swells of her buttocks before taking a forceful handhold and pulling her roughly against him. Her legs went around his middle and she sat astride his lap, feeling the hard bulge of his erection beneath her.   
  
His hand left her hair and joined its fellow on her waist. Hermione pulled her mouth away from his, feeling warmth spreading throughout her body. Her eyes met Ron's in the darkness and for a moment she forgot about the past twenty-four hours, about the images that had plagued her minutes before.   
  
Ron smiled slightly, the moonlight making his body glow blue and pale beneath her. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too," she replied softly as he pulled her down for another slow, torturous kiss. They didn't speak after that, bodies moving, skin on skin. Ron turned her over and slid the shift and her cotton knickers off, placing kisses along her thighs and stomach all while working out of his jockey shorts.   
  
When he entered her, their hands were clasped together, her legs around his hips. He kissed her and never came up again. She didn't mind as she clung to him, holding tight and more than willing to forget the horrors of her life. He moved slowly, as if in a dream and she let the dream slip over her, holding her in its grip with wide, familiar hands and a mouth that fit perfectly over hers.   
  
A fierce, hot feeling built like clouds in her mind as he moved inside her. She gasped once and let the feeling take her away, spiraling her away from the pain that wanted so badly to encroach on her mind.   
  
She was never happier to let it go. Just for tonight.   
  
****   
  
Marietta Edgecombe stole nervously through the empty corridors of the Ministry, her footfalls soft and loud at the same time. She shouldn't be there, not at this hour. If she was caught...  
  
But she refused to think about that. She had a mission and if she didn't complete it, her life was forfeit.   
  
A shudder went through her body and she felt the wand in her fingers shake under the force of it. A cold draft drifted across the floor from the lifts that opened and closed at regular intervals. The draft felt like Draco Malfoy's fingers on her throat and her breath hitched at the thought of him.  
  
He'd shown up in her flat and thrown her out of bed. Said he'd had a job for her, straight from the Dark Lord himself, who was very pleased with her. Sickness flooded her body as she remembered the cold fury in Draco's eyes, which were the only things she could make out in the darkness and through the black mask on his face.   
  
And then he'd told her what the Dark Lord wanted, wanted from her.  
  
"But...so soon? I...they'll suspect me! Granger already does! She threatened me today!" she'd protested, knowing full well that neither Draco nor his Master cared. Granger was Marietta's problem and Draco had said as much.   
  
He was waiting for her now in the smoky Muggle pub he favored, The Hanged Man. She had no choice but to obey him and get what he needed.   
  
Auror Headquarters was dark and only the dim light of the moon shining in through the enchanted windows illuminated the dark humps of the desks and filing cabinets grouped around the small cubicle. She had never been in there before today, but she knew which desk she needed. It sat in the corner covered in Dark Detectors and papers. The drawers were unlocked and she opened them one after the other, pulling out files and stacks of papers and memos.   
  
All the while, she listened with one ear to the dark of the ministry. Faintly she could make out the rattle-bang of the lifts as they went up and down through the building and opened their doors. The rest was silence.   
  
Finally she pulled the last folder free of its drawer and closed it tight. She hoped nothing would be discovered missing, at least not until the precautions were in place. They were running a gambit now and she was the dice, the chip thrown into the game. Sweat rolled down her temple and tangled with her curly hair.   
  
She hoped what she needed was in the files. She hoped Draco would be pleased and his Master as well. Clutching the files in her arms, she moved away from the desk, bumping into another desk close by. She recognized the nameplate on the surface facing her and scowled. She put the files down on the nearest desk and reached for the top drawer.  
  
Granger thought she was so clever! Marietta felt hatred growing inside her. She'd show Granger...  
  
How, she wasn't sure, but going through her desk for something, anything seemed like a good idea. She tugged on the top drawer, but it wouldn't budge. Locked. Well, she could get around that! Didn't Granger realize she could?   
  
Marietta pointed her wand at the lock and muttered, "iAlohamora!/i"  
  
She listened, expecting the click of the lock going. Instead, a loud wail filled the room, deafening in the otherwise silent, dark Ministry. Marietta's hands went to her ears and she clamped her palms tight over them to keep the sound out. To no avail, it continued to throb through her head.   
  
Panic rose in her. She grabbed up the files from the desk and held them close to her chest, cursing herself and Granger. Most of all she cursed Granger. With a crack, she Disapparated, the loud wail continuing into the night.   
  
****  
  
Several miles away, Hermione woke with a start as a loud wail filled her head. She was disoriented for a moment, clutching Ron, whose body was lying like a sweaty, salty blanket across hers, his head on her naked shoulder. He stirred and she realized the sound wasn't coming from him.  
  
It wasn't coming from anywhere near her. Realization flooded her wailing mind and she took a deep, steady breath.  
  
Someone had tripped her alarm. Someone not an Auror. Someone in deep, deep trouble.   
  
Hermione smiled in satisfaction.  
  
****  
  
There was vomit in her hair. She smelled the sickly acidic stench of it, felt it crackling on her chin as it dried, felt it squish and squirm whenever she moved her head. She shouldn't have been able to do it because her stomach should have been empty.   
  
Somehow she'd found the strength and the taste lingered like the smell of sex in the air.   
  
Her lower half ached and felt messy. Cold air swirled over the abused skin and she felt little scratches along the insides of her thighs, small calling cards of revenge. The rope burns on her wrists seared and seeped and her arms, still trapped beneath the weight of her body, were numb and she couldn't feel her fingers.   
  
She didn't know where she was. It was cold though. Cold and damp and the floor was concrete and rough, stippling her skin in painful patterns. The remains of the teapot were in a smashed pile in the corner. The gag that had been in her mouth hadn't been replaced. There was really no need for it. She could scream (and had) and no one within hearing range would care if she were in pain.   
  
"Harry...oh God I'm sorry..." she croaked in a harsh, tired voice. Her head gave a throb that made her grimace in the darkness. Something trickled down her neck and she thought perhaps her ears were bleeding. She wasn't surprised; they'd done so many things to her here it was a wonder she was conscious and in control of her own mind.  
  
They'd broken her, made her spill Harry's location through a haze of confusing images and pain. The words had escaped will-you nill-you and she couldn't put them back.   
  
She coughed and a bubble of blood blossomed on her lips. She was going to die down here and she knew it. It was only a matter of time and torture. She was only alive to amuse them, especially Malfoy and even thinking of his cruel silver eyes was enough to make her cry out and curl into a ball on the cold concrete floor.   
  
She hadn't expected him when he'd suddenly appeared in her flat, his wand out and a smile on his pale, pointed face. Hadn't expected it and hadn't been ready for it, though she should have been. He'd hit her with a Stunning spell before she could move and she'd fallen on the floor of her sitting room. His laugh was sycophantic as he'd rolled her over and grabbed her chin in his hands, kissed her with the coldness of a snake, then dug through her robes until he found her wand. It had snapped in half with a dry twang and he'd stuffed the bits into his pockets.   
  
"What a pretty little princess. Why don't we send her to a kingdom far, far away?" And he'd grabbed up the Portkey from the table--how had he known?--and then changed it. Relocated the destination. "Can't forget her bags!"   
  
He disappeared into her bedroom and she'd heard hurried shuffling and by then she was getting feeling back in her body and tried to move on the floor. He'd smiled as he came back into the room and grabbed her by the hair, hauling her across the floor toward the fireplace. She'd wished someone would Floo in, anything. Her neighbors were all away and no one could hear her scream.   
  
She'd groped for a handhold and found nothing. He'd jerked her head back and she'd felt anger bursting through her. She wasn't going to give up like this. Not with him. Not with the secret she had inside of her. She'd fought back, kicking out with her feet and her fists. He'd laughed again and caught her hands behind her back and tried to kiss her again.   
  
She'd freed one hand and brought it up along his cheek, feeling the give of skin and the gush of blood as her pink fingernails ripped through his face. He'd stopped laughing then and backhanded her to the floor. He'd leapt on her and grabbed her by the hair again, pulling her backward toward the Portkey on the floor beside the fireplace. Her hand had flailed out and she gripped the only thing beneath her--the wooden floor.   
  
Her fingernails had dug in deep and splinters had embedded themselves beneath the cuticles and she gripped harder, like a cat until she'd felt the searing pain and felt the split as one of them gave. That was all he'd needed. He'd grabbed the Portkey and then she'd felt that jerk below her navel and found herself being dragged by her hair to Merlin knew where.   
  
They'd landed here, in this room and she'd been tied and beat and the Crucio curse had flown thick and heavy until she'd let it slip, let it go in a fit of desperation. They were asking so many questions, demanding so many answers...  
  
"Number 12 Grimmauld Place! Please don't hurt him!"   
  
"What?" Someone had asked. "Hurt who, pretty thing?"  
  
"Harry..." she'd replied with barely a whisper, blood dripping from her nose and then a stunned silence had gone around the group of Death Eaters. She realized then that none of them had known she was his Secret-Keeper. She was just an enemy, a random target, right? Now, something more. Something useful.   
  
"He's mine," a cruel female voice had said before she'd been lost to the red-hot jangle of pain someone shot at her. She'd known no more since.   
  
Now, lying there with her lower body in agony and her head throbbing hard enough to make the world spin, she fully realized the weight of what she'd done.   
  
She'd killed Harry.   
  
She managed to roll over onto her side, her shoulders screaming, arms aching so hard she couldn't take it any longer. The ropes twisted and burned and she let them. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and she let them spill down her raw cheeks, the thump-thump of her head nearly enough to make her black out again.   
  
She wished she would black out, black out for good. She wanted to die and not feel the clawing pain that was her heart. She wanted to stop breathing, stop hurting, stop remembering what she'd done.   
  
It was all her fault and she wanted to die.   
  
She twisted her arms behind her back, attempting to make them stop aching and felt something, a give. She stopped; tears making her eyes burn and twisted her head over her shoulder to attempt to look behind her. Her vomit-clumped hair fell across her cheeks in stinking strands. She couldn't see her hands, but she twisted her arms a little, tried to get her numbed, swollen fingers to move and felt life stirring in them. Painful life.   
  
She plucked at the thick ropes with two fingers and felt one loop go. A rush of air escaped her lungs and she stretched and strained to grab the ropes in her fingers, to pull at them. She grabbed a thick coil and tugged slightly.   
  
The rope was slack, but knotted in a thick bulge. Her fingers went to the knot and she started pulling at it. It gave just a little.   
  
Closing her eyes, she continued to pull. Slowly, very slowly, it gave. Enough. Just enough to give her hope.  
  
(end chapter)  
  
**** 


	6. Chapter Five

Cicatrix (5/?)  
  
****  
  
Dawn came far too early for Hermione, whose head was still aching from the alarm that had been tripped. When she'd set the spell on her desk, she hadn't known how powerful it was or that it would last for so long. At least it had worked and she knew someone had tried to get into her things.  
  
Someone who wasn't an Auror and therefore shouldn't be trying to get at her private files. Granted, it might be nothing. But she didn't think so. Not after everything had happened.   
  
Now, as she stood in the shower, letting the water sluice over her body, plastering her bushy hair to her neck and shoulders, she tried to enjoy the quiet in her skull. She was tired, desperately tired.   
  
An image of Harry's face flashed in her mind, Ginny following right behind. The images came unbidden and they were certainly unwanted. She remembered dreaming something about them the night before, but the details were lost in a haze of confusion. She didn't want to think about them though. She wanted to focus on the alarm someone had tripped.   
  
They wouldn't go away. Her chest ached as she lathered up her hair with sweet-smelling shampoo. A sob suddenly went through her and she fought to keep it in. Leaning her head against the cool tiles, she closed her eyes against the bubbles of shampoo running down the sides of her face and felt tears well up.   
  
She couldn't stop them this time and knew it. She scrubbed at her face, trying to get the shampoo away from her burning eyes and out of her hair, but she couldn't stop the flow of the tears. She'd opened a floodgate and couldn't shut it. A sob went through her again and she bent her back, clutching the tiles and trying to keep her voice down.   
  
She sobbed harder and harder, her eyes burning. The shampoo washed out of her hair and still she kept sobbing. Every nerve ending was raw. She wanted to sink to the floor and curl her knees up, cry and pretend it was just the water on her face and not her tears.   
  
A draft of cold air curled over her naked body for a moment before she felt arms encircle her, drawing her against a warm, cloth-covered chest. She buried her wet face against Ron's chest and cried in his arms, for once unable to stop, unable to keep her mask in place.   
  
Ron ran his hand over her wet hair, muttering softly in her ear and landing kisses along her forehead. Hermione clung to him until finally, finally, her sobs subsided. She drew in a thick breath, realizing the water had turned cold and was now stinging her back. She pulled away from Ron's chest and looked into his eyes, seeing his red hair plastered to his skull, his eyes raw, water dripping down his face.   
  
He was standing fully dressed in the shower and looked as if he didn't care. Hermione laughed despite herself, the sound bubbling up from her throat.   
  
"You are so stupid!" she said, half-laugh, half-sob, her shoulders shaking. Ron's teeth chattered together as he smiled, tossing his wet hair out of his eyes. He reached behind her and turned the taps off, the cold water stopped hitting her back, but the cold air continued to caress her skin. "I feel like such an idiot."  
  
"Crying doesn't make you an idiot. Climbing into a shower fully dressed however..." Ron said with a light smile, trying to coax one out of her. She reluctantly felt her lips curl upward, smiling weakly at him. "That's my girl...come on..."  
  
She let him guide her out of the shower, let him wrap a towel around her and then steer her into the bedroom, where he sat her down on the bed. She watched as she peeled his wet robes off and tossed them on the floor. He knew she hated that, but she didn't much care right now. It was a very Ron thing to do and she clung to it, enjoying the familiarity of such a simple gesture.   
  
He picked out another set of robes and pulled them on, then reached into her side of the wardrobe, pulling out her favorite pair of robes. She smiled at that.   
  
"How do you do that?"  
  
"Do what?" Ron asked, flipping his rapidly drying hair out his eyes and looking at her curiously.   
  
"Make me feel better," she said softly as he knelt before her, putting her robes on the bed beside her. Ron smiled, showing the faintest trace of dimples in his cheeks. She lifted a hand to touch them, running her thumbs over the spattering of freckles on his cheeks.   
  
"Yeah well...I also drive you crazy and get on your nerves on a daily basis," he said, taking her wrist in his hand and kissing her open palm. Then he stood, pulling away from her. "Get dressed and we'll have breakfast."  
  
"I'm not hun--"  
  
"Yes you are," he cut across her. "You didn't eat anything yesterday and don't think I didn't notice. You're eating a big breakfast and that's final."  
  
"You remind me of your mother when you do that," she said with a half smile. He drew himself up to his full height and attempted to appear dignified.  
  
"I will take that as a compliment because I know you would never insult my mum. At least not in front of me."  
  
With that, he swept out of the room, leaving her sitting on the bed, her eyes raw and her heart sore...but calmer. She was ready for whatever the day had to throw at her. She hoped.  
  
****  
  
There was a commotion in Auror Headquarters; that much was clear as soon as Ron and Hermione stepped off the lift. As they entered the cubicle, they saw Kingsley Shacklebolt leaning against the wall with a brooding expression on his face. Tonks was standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, hair still black and falling in her heart-shaped face as she shouted at the top of her lungs.  
  
"Why the HELL didn't someone go with him, then? We can't spare ONE damned Auror to go with him? Or are we all so busy with our heads up our rears that we can't look out for one of our own?" Tonks shouted, turning on all of the Aurors in the room, her face red.   
  
"Nymphadora..." Remus Lupin said as he stepped out from the crowd, attempting to wrangle her in. She wheeled on him and glared hard.  
  
"You're not an Auror, Remus, so don't even attempt to jump into this conversation!" Tonks spat at him, avoiding his hands. Remus's face went dark as he sank back from her rage.   
  
Hermione stopped dead in her tracks at the pain on Remus's face. She hadn't had a chance to talk to him since they'd found Grimmauld Place in shambles, but she had the sudden feeling he was taking what had happened much harder than they were. He'd grown extremely close to Harry in the space of the last few years. Losing Harry must be killing him.   
  
"What in bloody hell is going on in here, Tonks?" Ron bellowed, making Tonks turn on him. Her nostrils flared at the sight of the taller, younger wizard bearing down on her.   
  
"Edric Blaire is missing," she said shortly, glancing at Remus, who was looking down at his feet. Hermione took a sharp breath as the image of Edric's face flashed through her mind. She didn't know him well, but that didn't matter. He was a colleague in arms and she was immediately concerned for him.  
  
"Where was he last?"  
  
"The Minister sent him to Little Hangelton to check out the Riddle House. Draco Malfoy was last seen there," Tonks said, pacing the room. "He didn't check in and now he's missing--and these gits aren't willing to go to Little Hangelton!"  
  
"Because we don't know if he's missing yet! Tonks, its still early--he could only be late for work! We don't need to be rushing into Little Hangelton with our wands half-cocked and scare the Muggles. We have wards on the Riddle House--if anything was going on there, we'd know."  
  
"That's not true, wards can be fooled by extremely powerful wizards," Hermione chimed in. Tonks looked at her gratefully.   
  
"Hermione is right. We can't sit here with our thumbs up our arses while Blaire might be in trouble. We need to act and we need to act now!" Tonks said, her face deadly serious. "I'm going to Little Hangelton and if any of you useless cowards care to join--"  
  
"I don't think that will be necessary, Tonks," a new voice said from behind Hermione. She wheeled around to face Edric Blaire, his long blonde hair swept back into a sleek ponytail, his handsome face smiling broadly.   
  
A relieved sigh went through the room as Blaire stepped past Hermione. He glanced at her for a moment and their eyes met. Something flashed in his gaze, but she wasn't certain what it was. Blaire stepped into the middle of the room and clapped Tonks on the back.   
  
"You right bastard, where have you been?" Tonks said, her anger flowing out of her. Remus scowled heavily as she embraced Blaire. He patted her back rather awkwardly and then pulled away, looking embarrassed. "Why didn't you report back yesterday?"  
  
"Sorry, I was busy. Testing the wards took a lot longer than I thought it would. As if it would have hurt to send someone along with me--would have made the whole job a lot easier. By the time I was finished, it was well into the night and I just wanted to sleep. Didn't mean to cause you trouble," Blaire said, glancing down at the nameplate on the desk before sitting down on the edge of it. Hermione recognized it as Blaire's.   
  
She frowned slightly at that, but let it go a moment later. Of course Blaire knew his own desk...  
  
"What about the wards? Anything at the Riddle House?" Kingsley asked in his deep voice. Blaire looked at him, his lips curling slightly.   
  
"Not a thing. The whole place is as quiet as a graveyard and the wards haven't been tripped once. I went into the house and looked and not even the dust has been disturbed. Malfoy has moved on, I'm afraid," Blaire answered, picking up a paperweight from his desk and tumbling it around in his hands. "Anyone else have any leads?"  
  
Hermione looked around at the assembled Aurors, but no one had any information. Not even a lead. She debated for a moment telling them that her desk alarm had been tripped--she hadn't even had a chance to say anything to Ron, but decided against it. It might have been nothing, after all. It was her problem, not theirs.   
  
"Right, well we're not going to find out anything else sitting around here, are we? You all know your assignments, get to work," Kingsley said, motioning to Hestia Jones, who unfolded herself from her chair and cleaved like a shadow to his side. Hermione moved out of the way as they walked out of headquarters.   
  
Everyone else scattered as Hermione sat down at her desk, reaching for her desk drawer, which was open slightly. She knew immediately that the open drawer was the reason the alarm had went off. There was nothing inside it but quills, ink and parchment. She only kept it locked out of habit. She frowned at that.   
  
Why had someone tried to get into her desk? Was it by accident? No, surely not. There was no one in the Ministry at night and anyone there would have a reason to be there, such as one of the Aurors--and none of them would have tripped the alarm since she'd keyed them into it.   
  
It didn't make sense, which meant whoever had tried to get into her desk hadn't known what or where they were looking. It was just as she'd figured back at their flat.   
  
Her mind went through a list of suspects quicker than thought and immediately her brain stopped on Marietta Edgecombe. Her eyes narrowed hard as she closed the drawer, the spell setting again with a click.   
  
"What's that look for?" Ron murmured, sitting down at his own desk and drawing up a piece of parchment, which he clearly wasn't focused on. His long nose scrunched up as she sighed.   
  
"Someone tried to get into my desk last night," she said in a low tone. Ron shook his head.  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, it tripped my alarm...you know the one I set on it so that no one but an Auror could open it?" she explained as realization dawned in his eyes.   
  
"I see...do you know who did it?" He glanced around the room, his eyes settling on Blaire, who was staring at the wall of suspects and the map of England tacked to the wall. Hermione noticed his gaze was caught on one picture in particular. Ron scowled at the moving portrait of Antonin Dolohov and she could almost see the hatred rising in him. Hermione called his attention back to her.   
  
"No, there's no way to tell...but I have a feeling I know who did it..."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"I'll give you one clue: sneak," Hermione said with a bite of venom in her voice. Ron lifted one eyebrow and then glanced around the room again.  
  
"There's no way to know that Hermione...I mean, it could have been anyone," he said in a rational voice, something that amused her. She was perfectly aware that where Marietta was concerned, she went a bit too far. Yesterday had proven that. "Besides, its not like whoever did it took anything."  
  
"That's not the point. She was in Auror Headquarters at night right after she was questioned in connection to Ginny's disappearance."  
  
"If she was the one who did it, you mean," Ron supplied with a grin. She could tell he was amused by her preoccupation with Marietta.  
  
"I don't want to argue about it, so I'll just agree. If she did it. What we need to do is corner her and--" Hermione cut off as a shadow fell over her left shoulder. Turning in her chair, she saw Blaire looking down at her with a shrewd expression on his face.  
  
"Granger," he said shortly, eyeing her. Hermione drew back slightly, eyes narrowed.  
  
"Hullo Blaire," she said, rising to her feet. Ron stood beside her. "Was there something you needed?"  
  
"No, no...just...was wondering how you were? This must all be a great strain on you. I'm...sorry to hear about your friends," Blaire said, shaking his head, his long ponytail falling on his shoulders.   
  
Ron put a hand on the older wizard's shoulder and nodded his head. "Thanks mate. We appreciate the thought."  
  
Blaire gave Ron a cold look and then turned his attention back on Hermione. "Its good to see you looking so well. Be careful out there."  
  
He turned his back on them and marched back to his desk, his attention once again caught on the map on the wall and the pictures tacked around it with red thumbtacks.   
  
"Weird bloke," Ron mumbled, sitting down and reaching for his parchment again.   
  
"Yeah," Hermione responded, glancing at Blaire once more before sitting back down. "Ron, I want to ask Marietta a few questions."  
  
Ron's head snapped back up and he put his quill behind his ear, a troubled look on his face. "I'm not sure that's wise, Hermione."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Well...yesterday didn't go too well, if you recall." She opened her mouth to protest, but he leaned forward and caught her wrist in his hand. "Look, I said I trusted you, didn't I? Well I still do. If your instincts--which are never wrong--are telling you that Marietta should be looked into, then we'll look into her. But we need to do it with finesse. If we attack her she's just going to curl up and get defensive."  
  
"So what should we do?"  
  
"Leave it to me, okay?" Hermione looked him over, as if measuring him. He gave an exasperated sigh. "I can do it!"  
  
Hermione relented. "I know you can. Alright, I'm putting this in your hands."  
  
"Okay, just let me finish this letter to Fred and George first. I forgot to do it at home and they'll be wanting their orders."  
  
"I can't believe we're letting them help us, Ron..."  
  
"You're the one who relented in the first place. Besides we went over this last night. They could be a big help."  
  
"And they could also get themselves killed!" she hissed, but Ron waved her off.   
  
"Fred and George aren't stupid, Hermione. They get into trouble all the time; they'll get back out again. Its what they do," Ron said as he scribbled furiously, ink splotching his fingers. He finished it off, dusted sand across the wet ink, waited a few moments and then blew the sand off. He rolled it up and tied a red ribbon around it, then sat back in his chair. "What are you going to do while I'm cornering our sneak?"  
  
Hermione glanced at Remus, who was still standing to the side, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was on Tonks, who was ignoring him. Hermione felt a soft tug in chest at the sight of her old professor looking so lost.   
  
"I'll think of something," she said, looking back at Ron. He stood up, landed a firm kiss on top of her head and then hurried out of the room. Hermione watched him go and then looked back at Remus. As if sensing her eyes on him, Remus tore his gaze away from Tonks and turned in her direction.   
  
As they looked at one another, she suddenly sensed she wasn't the only one holding their emotions in by a thin tether. Remus looked like he was on the edge.   
  
And Hermione knew how that felt only too well.   
  
****  
  
Pale, watery blue light fell across the wall opposite her in a slant, revealing empty crates and cardboard boxes stacked against the wall. She barely had time to register this before the weak blue light was blotted out by a dark shadow and she heard the sound of footsteps. The door closed with a slam, lock clicking into place.   
  
She lay still on the vomit-crusted concrete, trying to control her terror. Her shoulders ached hard enough to make tears well in her eyes, but she ignored the pain, ignored all the small pains erupting through her system and concentrated on the person that had entered the room.   
  
"Lumos!" the person said, and a flair of light came from the center of the room, illuminating a masked face, the glitter of dark eyes showing from the holes in the mask. She recognized the voice and knew he had been one of the ones who had tortured Harry's location out of her and that was good.   
  
It made what she had to do easier.   
  
"You alive, girl?" the Death Eater said in a rumbling voice. She trembled on the floor despite herself. A whimper came out of her mouth before she could stop it. The Death Eater laughed at her fear and pointed his wand straight at her face. "You're a right mess, girl..."  
  
"Help me! Please!" she croaked, not really having to feign her desperation as she blinked in the blinding light from the Death Eater's wand. He laughed again and prodded her ribs with the toe of his boots. Pain traveled up and down her side and twisted into her chest. She shuddered away from him as he prodded at her again. "Please..."  
  
Tears welled in her eyes again, but she forced them down. She needed to see. Needed to keep her head, needed to be ready.   
  
"Malfoy was certainly rough on you, wasn't he? Can't say as I blame him. Look at those thighs..." She jerked away from his boot as he slid it up her thigh, making her bruises quiver and jerk. She squeezed her knees together despite herself. "Might have to have a taste myself! Almost glad I'm not in on the raid at the Daily Prophet if this is my reward for getting left behind. After all, its not everyday I have such a...captive audience."  
  
That's what you think, she thought, glaring him. Her interest was peaked at the mention of the Daily Prophet, but she let it go. What could she do about it, and whom could she tell?  
  
There was a sound of a belt being unbuckled and the wand swung downward to his feet. She shuddered at the sound and knew what was going to come, what was in store for her again. She squeezed back a scream and clenched her thighs hard, coiling her aching, tired, depleted muscles. Just one burst of strength was all she needed.   
  
Her head swam, but she forced herself to focus. She was not going to lay there and take it again. Not ever again.   
  
The Death Eater sank to his knees before her and placed his wand to the side, the beam of light illuminating the whole room in a ghostly white glow. She could see the glitter of his cruel, dark eyes beneath his mask and focused in on that. Those eyes had hurt her and wanted to hurt her again.   
  
"You know, they all think you're dead. The other Death Eaters, that is. They don't know we've still got you trapped in here. You're Malfoy's special treat for finding Potter's Secret-Keeper, did you know that? He wants you all to himself, but...what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?"  
  
His cruel, large hands landed on her hips and he pulled her across the concrete toward him, scraping her bare thighs open on the hard surface. She flinched and tried to keep her hands behind her back, to keep up the pretense. She had to wait for her moment, and the Death Eater seemed to want to draw it out. He was speaking again and she tried to focus on what he was saying.  
  
"You know, we had no idea you were his Secret-Keeper, not until you spilled your guts," he said in a conversational voice.  
  
"Then why did Malfoy kidnap me?" she burst out before she could stop herself. The Death Eater laughed hard and his fingers dug into her thighs.  
  
"Because he wanted you, girl! Told me so himself. He'd heard a rumor you were seeing Potter, you see. And Malfoy wanted to ruin that for him. Hell, I think he would have done it even if you hadn't been seeing Potter. He's been wanting to play with you for years..."  
  
"Why?" she choked, tears welling before she could stop them.  
  
"Think I know the reason, girl..." His hot breath was on her legs and she felt fingers creep up her bruised thighs again, tugging her knees apart. She didn't fight it. She didn't have the energy, not for that. She had to save it all for what she had to do.   
  
Cold air swirled beneath the ripped, dirty skirt and over her swollen privates; her knickers had long been lost to the darkness. She flinched away from it and tensed her muscles. His hand crept closer and she closed her eyes for a moment, bolstering her courage.   
  
"Now, come on...give me a taste..."  
  
She struck out with one foot, slamming it into his chest before he even knew she was moving. The ropes that had been tied to her ankles gave, the loose knots she had retied with her swollen fingers falling away in an instant. He fell back on his heels and she took advantage of his surprise, twisting her arms around and pulling the ropes off of her wrists.   
  
It had taken her all night to pull the thick knots loose, but she had done it. Now she grasped the ropes in her hands and kicked out with her sore legs, catching him in the chin with the heel of her left foot. The blow vibrated up her tired limbs, making her grit her teeth against the pain.   
  
His surprise quickly wore off and he dived for his wand, but she had already lunged for it. He backhanded her away from it and her head reeled from the blow. An explosion of pain collided with her brain and she thought for sure something had broken open in her head and she was now leaking gray matter from her nose.   
  
That didn't matter though. What mattered was getting up; getting up and doing something, anything. Not being used again, not being touched and tortured ever again, even if he killed her--and how she wished he would. Wished he'd just do the damned spell and she'd see that green light rushing toward her and then nothing. Absolutely nothing and she could be free.   
  
Free of the pain and free of her memories.   
  
He reached for his wand again, but it rolled across the concrete, clattering beneath a box, where the light spluttered out. He screamed a curse and scrambled for it. She climbed unsteadily to her feet, her head full of pain and something thick dripping down her lips and chin.   
  
He was on his hands and knees and he was reaching for his wand beneath the box. She saw it all and then her vision narrowed.   
  
The rope was still in her hands and she grabbed either end in her fingers and then threw herself on his back. The rope went around his neck and she pulled back with all her strength. He choked and spluttered and groped for the rope, groped for her hands. She wrapped it tighter around his neck and pulled, cinching it tight in a knot and pulling...she kept pulling as he gave loud gulping sounds.   
  
The muscles in her arms strained and quivered and she felt her world graying out, felt her head spinning.   
  
Her strength gave even as she felt him twist away from her grip, gasping, trying to breathe. The world went gray as she was flung down on the ground, rolling until she felt another tiny explosion of pain in her shoulder. She landed hard against something and her vision wavered in again.   
  
The Death Eater's eyes bulged and he clawed at the knot she'd made of the rope, pulling in thick, wet breaths.   
  
"You...bitch..." he gasped and pulled the rope free. Trying desperately to breathe, he pulled the mask off his face and glared at her. His face was square and his nose looked like had been broken several times, so that now it was twisted and had a large bump in it. He worked at the knot as she tried to summon her strength, which had failed her. She wanted to get up and fight, but she was exhausted. Completely exhausted.   
  
The knot finally fell free of his neck and he threw it across the room, into the deepening shadows. She swallowed hard and tried to get her tired limbs to move, to get up and run for the door...  
  
He kicked her hard in the stomach and she felt the breath leave her in a rush. She screamed as he kicked at her again, rolling her harder against the box to her back.   
  
The box to her back.   
  
He kicked her again and she twisted away from his boot, reaching with one hand beneath the box, reaching, feeling cobwebs creep over her skin and then she felt it. He kicked her again as her fingers closed over the tip of his wand. Her eyes screwed shut against the pain and the crunch of her ribs as one of them cracked, she twisted, screaming and brought his wand up.  
  
His cruel black eyes went wide with surprise as he stared at the tip of his own wand, which was pointed straight at his face.   
  
Ginny Weasley took a painful breath and then, with all the strength left in her, she said in an almost calm voice, "Avada Kedavra."  
  
A blinding flash of green light spilled from the end of the Death Eater's wand. It struck him square in the face and he fell sideways, the air rushing out of him.   
  
Ginny watched him fall, her mouth open slightly, the pain forgotten. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she lowered the wand. She shuddered, pain wrenching up her sides. She felt sick, sick at what she'd just done; sick at everything that had happened to her.   
  
She closed her eyes for a few minutes, trying to gain control over herself, trying to gather her strength.   
  
Slowly, she jerked to her feet, one hand on her ribs, feeling her abused muscles stiffen and knot into hard, black bruises. Blood showed on her lips as she shuffled forward, stepping over the Death Eater, trying not to think of what she had done to him.   
  
She wasn't sad he was dead. She was sad for herself, for her loss of innocence in that regard. She pushed him out of her mind as she turned her back to his body. The door lay to her left and without the light of the wand; she could barely make out the dark shapes of the crates and cardboard boxes along the wall.   
  
Gasping, she leaned against them, trying to control her breathing. She didn't know if there was anyone outside of the room, keeping guard. She hoped there wasn't and that wherever they were keeping her wasn't crawling with more Death Eaters.   
  
It didn't matter though. She refused to stay in the dark, stinking room where she'd been raped and tortured. She'd rather die than stay one moment longer.   
  
Gathering herself against whatever was on the other side of the door, she lifted the wand and pointed it toward the doorknob.   
  
"Alohamora!" she croaked and with a click of the lock, the door swung open.   
  
****  
  
Early morning light streamed in from the windows beside her desk as she down in her chair. Her eyes burned slightly from the light. She'd lain awake most of the night and was not prepared for such an early morning.   
  
From her bag, she pulled out the story she'd read over and over again into the dead, dark hours of the morning, placing it on her desk. The moving, black and white photograph attached to the typed article with a paperclip stared at her, somber eyes she knew were green blinking innocently. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the image or the scar on his forehead, the jagged gray line marring his white flesh.   
  
She shouldn't be looking at this right now, not when other people were around, people who didn't know. Her heart seemed to squeeze in her chest as she looked up, the after-image a ghost on her vision. Someone walked by her desk and she immediately grabbed the nearest file, throwing it over the article and picture.  
  
The file on top was all her information on Ginny Weasley and THAT made her stare forlornly at the words scrawled on the papers. Missing for four days without a trace. At least THIS was something she could work on, even if it wasn't her job to find her. She could at least get the word out to the magical community through the Daily Prophet.  
  
Luna Lovegood sighed, her long blonde hair falling across her face as she stared at Ginny's picture. How many more friends would she have to lose to this war? She'd already lost Neville and even thinking of him made her short of breath. Sometimes she wished she could be out there in the fight with her friends and not pushing a pencil and digging up the news for the Prophet.   
  
But there was nothing she could do about it. Everyone had a job to do and right now, hers was to make sure everyone knew what they needed, and to make sure what they didn't need to know was kept secret.   
  
She'd already been to Grimmauld Place once and had no desire to go back. The photograph Colin had taken was buried in the file on Harry, the one she was to keep secret until such time as the Ministry was prepared to reveal that he had been murdered. For Luna, that was the hardest part. Knowing, but not able to mourn properly.   
  
She'd already cried for him, and for Ginny too because despite her hope that she was alive somewhere, Luna knew she couldn't possibly be. She had more of a chance in finding a Crumple-Horned Snorkack than finding Ginny. Still, like the Snorkack, she had some hope and though it was small, it kept her from crying at her desk in front of the other reporters, the ones who didn't know the situation and were happily reporting on Ministry decrees and Celestina Warbeck's third divorce. Only she, Colin and the editor-in-chief of the Prophet, Alpert Davies, knew what was really happening out there.   
  
Luna stared into space, vaguely aware that she should be working, but unable to make her mind focus. The window drew her attention and she stared at the sunlight bathing Diagon Alley, setting the roof of Florean Fortescue's to glimmer and glint. She suddenly craved an ice cream. Something chocolate, or maybe a gillywater at the Leaky Cauldron to wet her whistle...   
  
Daydreaming, she wasn't paying attention to her surroundings and was startled to hear someone say her name. As she turned toward Alpert Davies, she had the slight feeling that he had said her name several times before she'd heard him.   
  
"Yes?" she said, blinking owlishly with her misty silver eyes. Mr. Davies looked at her, wringing his hands nervously. Fat droplets of sweat rolled down the sides of his red, corpulent face and his chin trembled slightly. Luna had never seen him like this. Davies was usually an unreadable rock. "What's wrong?"  
  
"N-nothing, Miss Lovegood," Davies said, swallowing hard so that his double chin jiggled. His eyes darted to the side, where his office was. "I need the article on P-Potter."  
  
"Why?" Luna pitched her voice to a whisper, leaning toward the editor-in-chief. "Did the Minister give the order to run it?"  
  
"Yes. Yes he did. It'll be front...front page news!" Davies' voice cracked as his eyes widened. Luna glanced toward his office, but the glazed glass was dark. "I'll need the article now. We have to get it to the presses right away!"  
  
Luna took a deep breath. Something felt off. She suddenly wished Hermione Granger was there beside her, or Ronald Weasley. Both of them were much better than she at sensing danger. But right now it rolled off Alpert Davies in waves and even she could sense it. He was scared, terrified of something.   
  
"Why are we running it now? What did the Minister say?" she pressed, laying her hand flat on Ginny Weasley's file, as if protecting the one on Harry beneath it.   
  
"Never you mind, Lovegood. I n-need that article now. Please. Or I'll...I'll have to write it myself!" His eyes grew even wider and his face grew so red it was nearly purple. He glanced once more at his office and a pleading look came into his eyes. "I don't have time to write it...but...but I will..."  
  
"Who is in your office?" Luna said beneath her breath, but loud enough for him to hear. The older wizard shuddered, pulling at his robes with a fat, shaking hand.   
  
Before he could answer, Colin Creevey strolled up, his head bent over a handful of proofs. "Oh there you are, Lovegood! I've got those proofs back. You know...the special ones." Luna looked at him imploringly, but Colin didn't seem to notice the warning look in her protuberant eyes. He threw a glance at Davies though and stopped, confusion crossing his face. "Did I...interrupt something?"  
  
"No, Creevey. Lovegood, I need that article or you're fired!"  
  
Colin's gaze darted between them and he dropped the proofs on Luna's desk. Luna's hand pressed firmer on Ginny's file. A sense of danger enveloped her as she contemplated what Davies had just said. Luna looked from a confused Colin to a terrified Davies.   
  
She moved before she knew she had made a conscious decision to do so. With one hand she pulled her wand out the inner pocket of her blue robes and with the other, she tossed Ginny's file to the floor, scooping up the ready-to-print article on Harry's death and hugging it to her chest.   
  
She pointed her wand straight at Davies, breathing hard, her heart pounding in her chest. The other reporters in the room were now watching what was happening in Luna's corner with interest. Several had stood up.   
  
"Luna! What the bloody hell are you doing?" Colin started, but she ignored him, glancing at the door to Davies's office.   
  
"Who is in there?" she demanded and realized she already knew. But they wouldn't...they couldn't be so bold as to come to the Daily Prophet. Could they?  
  
"Lovegood, don't...just give me the article! I told them we had a story ready and they promised not to hurt anyone if we ran it!" Davies said desperately, sweat rolling down onto his collar.  
  
"We did?" a smooth, cold voice said from behind Davies. The fat wizard whipped around to face his office to see that the door had been flung open. Several black robed, masked people--Death Eaters--were grouped in the doorway. "I don't remember promising that, do you?"  
  
There were several shakes of the head from the Death Eaters behind the speaker.   
  
"Now why don't you give us the article, little witch, or we'll...I don't know...KILL you?" someone said with a harsh, high laugh that rang through Luna's ears. She was vaguely aware that Colin was now at her side, his own wand out. She was suddenly grateful he was there. Colin knew how to fight; she'd trained with him long ago under Harry's eye and that comforted her somewhat.   
  
"You'll do that anyway..." Colin said, his voice wavering slightly, but his wand blessedly steady.   
  
"By JOVE, he's right!" a Death Eater said, her voice slightly muffled by her mask. "We don't need your article anyway. As long as we get the word out that Potter's dead, it won't matter if we write about what a WONDERFUL hero he was or not. Something I'm sure Loony Lovegood's article is just FULL of."  
  
"Quite right, Zabini," another Death Eater said. "We don't need their sodding article. I think the large headline: 'POTTER BITES IT, DARK LORD TRIUMPHANT' will do nicely."  
  
The Death Eaters laughed as they continued to move into the room, circling it, blocking the exits before any of the reporters could get to them. There were several screams from a few of the witches and Luna flinched as they pierced the air.  
  
The Death Eaters were playing with them and she knew it. Just as she knew there was no way she, nor anyone else was getting out of there alive. There would be a lot more screaming before the day was done.   
  
She threw one look at Colin, meeting his eye. He nodded, his blue eyes wide and terrified, but ready. Accepting.   
  
Turning back to the Death Eaters who were still spilling out of Davies' office, wands pointed at the reporters who were now screaming in terror and attempting to hide, or reaching for their wands. Someone, impatient with the pretense of mercy, threw a spell, a flash of green light hitting Griselda Zellar, the witch who did the food review, in the chest. She flew backward over her desk and Luna knew she would never get up again.  
  
Luna steeled herself and then lifted her wand. She threw the useless article down as a Death Eater leveled his wand in her direction.  
  
Terror filled her, but she was not about to go out without a fight.   
  
"STUPEFY!" she cried and prayed her spell would find its mark.  
  
(end chapter)  
  
**** 


	7. Chapter Six

  
  
Hermione caught Remus's eye once more and motioned toward the door. He took the hint immediately and, casting one last look back over his shoulder at Tonks, followed her into the hallway. There was little activity beyond Auror Headquarters except a flurry of Interdepartmental memos, which flapped and fluttered over their heads on the way to their separate destinations.   
  
She wasn't sure how to start, but she knew she needed to talk to him. Remus's face was void of color and his large brown eyes held so much restrained pain that she could barely bring herself to meet them.   
  
"So...how are you?"   
  
"That's a fine question, Hermione," Remus said in a light voice, leaning against the wall and following the zigzag path of a pink memo. It disappeared into the lift as it rattled open and he turned back to Hermione. "One I'm not entirely sure how to answer, in fact."  
  
Hermione nodded her head, knowing all to well how Remus was feeling. She looked at him shrewdly and then decided she couldn't not ask him the question burning within her mind.   
  
"And Tonks? I saw the way you were looking at her," she said, pursing her lips. Remus met her gaze and a dark shadow passed over his expression.   
  
"I don't know what you mean," he responded in a stiff voice. Hermione lifted one eyebrow at him and he squirmed at her unspoken gesture of disbelief. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his gray-streaked hair. "You always were too clever for your own good. I am a foolish old man, aren't I?"  
  
"No, you're not," she said softly, allowing a ghost of a smile to cross her lips. "Does she know?"  
  
"If she does, she makes a fine show of pretending otherwise," he said, a bite of bitterness in his voice.  
  
"She's just grieving in her own way, Remus. She lashes out at anything and everything when she can't handle her emotions and you know that. What she said in there..."  
  
"She meant every word and she was right. I am not an Auror; I merely pretend in order to feel useful these days. Anti-werewolf laws keep me from holding a proper Ministry position, but I like to think my time is better spent attempting to help in some way," Remus replied, rubbing a thoughtful thumb across the light stubble on his chin.   
  
"You know very well that Mr. Weasley is trying to change those laws though," Hermione began, but Remus cut her off.  
  
"I know and Arthur is a good man and a good friend, but I don't think changing laws so I can hold a job is where his time is best spent. We're in a war, Hermione, as you well know. Dealing with minor problems has created bigger ones in their place."  
  
"Harry, you mean," Hermione said shortly, pursing her lips once more. Remus nodded his head gravely.  
  
"Allowing Ginny Weasley to become his Secret-Keeper was foolish of all of us. Harry and Ginny...they talked it over with me before they brought the issue to Ron and yourself. They wanted to know if it was a good idea. I saw them and how happy they were and I was so happy for them...I was blinded by their love. I allowed it. I thought for sure that Ginny was safe--she was rarely at risk and usually in the company of family and friends. And Harry believed so much in her that I couldn't look past his loyalty, his love," Remus said, his gaze misty and far away.   
  
Hermione's stomach knotted up. He was right of course. Completely right. They had all failed Harry by allowing his love for Ginny to cloud their judgment.   
  
"We were all blinded by it, Remus. Not just you, but everyone who saw them together. I was so happy for them, happy that Harry seemed to be throwing the dark cloud off himself and actually living. This past year he's been a different person and...and I'm almost glad he got that before..." She couldn't finish it and she knew she didn't have to. Remus understood her completely.   
  
"We failed Ginny too. Failed to protect her, as we should have. Even if she hadn't been Harry's Secret-Keeper, she was still at risk by simply being herself. She was, is, the Minister's only daughter and that put her at risk. There was no way to know that she was as important to Harry as she was, but I can only imagine that Draco Malfoy was waiting for an opportunity to seize her. And we let that happen," Remus continued, shaking his head. "So many mistakes that could have been prevented and now they're both gone."  
  
But Hermione wasn't listening. The gears in her mind were whirring and clicking again. Her mind flew forward in a flash and then stopped, slamming her thoughts into clarity.   
  
"How did Draco know?" she wondered aloud, chewing on her bottom lip.   
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"Draco, how did he know where she was going to be and when? How did he know she was going to have a portkey and when to come to her flat?"  
  
Remus looked thoughtful for a moment. "Who knew she was going to Dublin?"  
  
"All the Weasley's, Harry, you, myself, Aphrodesia Shawnessey and...and Marietta Edgecombe. Marietta issued the portkey and she was the only one besides Harry and Shawnessey who knew what time the portkey was supposed to activate."  
  
"Didn't Kingsley already question Miss Edgecombe? And what about Mrs. Shawnessey in Dublin?"  
  
"Shawnessey is a possibility, but she promptly reported Ginny's disappearance. From what I understand, she's fairly reliable. An old friend of Molly Weasley's from school actually," Hermione replied, her mind still whirring and clicking.  
  
"School friends can change, you know," Remus said sourly. Hermione looked at him askance and saw the pain in his gaze. She remembered all too well what had happened the night Dumbledore was murdered. She'd never forget the look on Remus's face when he'd struck down Peter Pettigrew.   
  
She shuddered slightly at the memory and turned her mind forward quickly. "You're right of course, but I think Marietta Edgecombe is the weak link in this chain. She issued the portkey herself and then, when she received the owl from Shawnessey, she took her sweet time notifying everyone of Ginny's failure to arrive. Then she didn't show up for work the next morning and when she came in, she smelled like smoke...and she was acting strangely. She was covering up something," Hermione said, her eyes narrowing. She neglected to mention her suspicions about Marietta breaking into her desk. There were too many variables involved and she wanted cold hard facts.   
  
"That certainly sounds like a case for investigation if you ask me. And knowing you, I imagine you have Ron sniffing around for clues. Am I right?" Remus hazarded. Hermione didn't meet his gaze, but she heard him chuckle dryly. "Always one step ahead of the rest of us, Hermione. So, what would you have me do?"  
  
Hermione looked up and saw him fold his arms over his lean chest, frayed and patched brown robes stretched tight across his arms. Looking him over, she smiled.   
  
"Talk to Tonks," she demanded, enjoying the look of vexation that crossed the older man's face. "She needs someone to talk to about this or she's going to explode. If we lose anyone else she's going to be a wreck and we need her."  
  
"Yes, I noticed how...concerned...she was for Blaire," Remus said wryly, his eyes narrowed as he glanced back down the hallway. "Had her hands all over him..."  
  
"I'm sure it was nothing," Hermione said forcefully, but the sudden thought of Blaire made the hair on the back of her neck rise. She frowned at that. There was no reason Blaire should give her that reaction.   
  
She let it go; it was probably just her nerves acting up anyway. Blaire was fine and safe and that was all that mattered.   
  
"Nevertheless...I think I'll just nip back into the office and see if there's anything I can do..." Remus said, moving to head back down the hallway. He stopped halfway down and turned to face her again. "And Hermione?"  
  
"Yes, Remus?"  
  
"Thank you," he said simply, then turned on his heel and disappeared into Auror headquarters. Hermione stood in the hallway for a moment staring at the doorway and at the fluttering memos like origami cranes near the ceiling. She felt slightly lighter somehow, though why she couldn't say.   
  
The lifts rattled open again and she turned her attention to them, deciding to go and find Ron. As she stepped into the lift, she had the sudden feeling that the day was going to be a long one.   
  
She had no idea how right she was.   
  
Blood mingled with sweat dripped down Luna's face as she crouched beneath the meager shelter of an overturned desk. Colin breathed hard beside her, clutching a smoking wound in his side. The yellow smoke emitted the smell of rotten eggs, which permeated the air. Luna had no idea what the spell he'd been hit with was, but it was taking its toll on the young photographer. His lower lip trembled, but his eyes were hard and determined.   
  
Somehow she'd ended up in a corner of the room with Colin at her side. Several feet away she could just make out the unseeing eyes of Davies, who'd been hit within seconds of the fight, falling down in a heap after the lead Death Eater had thrown the killing curse at him. Luna had no idea how she'd managed to avoid the beams of green light flashing through the room, but she had. The only wound she'd sustained so far was the cut on her forehead from a glass exploding in her face.   
  
After Colin had been hit, she'd thrown him over the desk and hunkered down behind it, hoping its bulk would shelter her until she could catch her breath and actually think. Another scream pierced the air and she shuddered, knowing whomever it belonged to was now dead, or better off that way.   
  
"I know you're behind there, Lovegood!" the lead Death Eater called in a mocking voice. She recognized it, or at least thought she did. "You and Creevey!"  
  
"Draco Malfoy!" Colin breathed beside her, his breath hitching, another gush of smoke curling into the air.   
  
"Must be killing you both knowing about Potter! You were both in his fan club back at Hogwarts, weren't you?" Malfoy called, a shiver of fear running down Luna's spine. "You and that bitch Weasley!"  
  
"What did you do to her?" Colin demanded through tears of pain. The smell from his wound was getting worse. Luna could barely breathe as she clutched her wand tightly in her fist.   
  
"What did you do to her?" one of the Death Eaters mocked, laughing shrilly. The others followed. Luna glanced around the corner of the desk, catching a quick glimpse of the Death Eaters. They were all standing in a group, wands pointed at the desk. There was no other movement in the room.   
  
Which meant she and Colin were the last ones left. Everyone else was dead.  
  
"How did you capture her?" Luna insisted, her reporter's mind insisting on the details. Malfoy laughed again.  
  
"The Dark Lord has many loyal followers, Lovegood. Even in the Ministry of Magic itself," he said and Luna frowned. She was about to ask him who it was, aware that she probably wouldn't get an answer, when Colin coughed and his lungs gave a loud suck.   
  
A viscous yellow liquid showed on his lips and he swiped it away with a pale, trembling hand. He glanced at Luna and she saw the fear in his eyes. Neither of them were going to make it out of there alive and knew it.   
  
"Apparate out of here, Luna," Colin said softly as the Death Eaters jeered at them again.   
  
"I can't, I've already tried. They've put an Anti-Disapparation Jinx on the building," she said just as softly, seeing the desperation in his eyes. Colin coughed again and more liquid showed, coating his teeth. The smoke came thicker from the wound and she could see the skin around it bubbling.   
  
"I'm sorry..." Colin began, but she touched his arm, tears swimming in her large, silvery eyes.   
  
"I'm tired of waiting on you, Lovegood! This doesn't have to hurt, you know! And Creevey got hit with a pretty powerful curse. One my father invented and there's no way to stop it from eating him alive! He's going to die soon and you're going to be all alone. There's no telling what we'll do with you," Malfoy called, several snickers rising from the crowd.   
  
The sound of his smooth, oily voice made Luna's blood run cold.   
  
"Just smash the desk!" a female said with a bite of impatience in her voice. "I'll do it!"  
  
"Yes, but make sure you don't smash Lovegood into bits--I want to have some fun with her..." someone said. Luna and Colin exchanged glances. Luna knew full well the stories of what Death Eaters had done to the people they'd caught. She'd even reported on the aftermath and seen some of it first hand. It was horrible and if you managed to live through it, you wished you hadn't.  
  
Colin must have been thinking the same thing, because he gave a whimper and grabbed her hand. His hand was hot and soft, like his bones were turning to liquid beneath the surface of his skin. Luna's stomach gave a terrified lurch.   
  
"Enough waiting then!" the female screeched again. There was the sound of whistling and then the desk was rocked by a powerful blast. The wood to Luna's back splintered and split into two and several drawers went flying out of it. The hard edge of one of the drawers hit her across the head and she saw sparks for a moment.   
  
"ZABINI!" Malfoy barked in warning, but Luna wasn't paying attention to him. Colin had picked up something from amid the scattered contents of the drawers. She saw immediately what it was and sucked in a lungful of foul-smelling air.   
  
A full jar of Floo powder lay in Colin's soft, trembling hand. Luna glanced to her left, where the large fireplace the iDaily Prophet/i employees used for travel was located. It was perhaps twenty feet away and there was a low fire crackling in the hearth, awaiting someone to use it.   
  
And there was no way the Death Eaters could stop them from using the Floo Network; they had no control over it.  
  
Colin thrust the jar at her.   
  
"Go, I'll cover you," he said in a low, mucous-choked voice. Luna shook her head.   
  
"No! There's more than enough for two!"  
  
"I'm dead already, Luna! You have a chance without me!" Colin said, furrowing his brow. Yellow liquid seeped from his nose, but he ignored it as it ran down his lips.   
  
"I can't leave you!" she protested as Colin shoved the jar of Floo powder at her. She took it, but she wasn't about to leave it at that. "We're both getting out of here, Colin. And we're going to do it right now." She quickly pulled the cork out of the jar of Floo powder and cradled it in her hand and gripped her wand hard in the other.   
  
"Lovegood...are you alive over there? Is Creevey a sack of mucous yet?" Malfoy called, but Luna wasn't concerned with him now. All she saw was the fireplace twenty feet away. She measured the distance and how many spells she could block.   
  
"Can you use your wand?"  
  
Colin nodded. "I...think so."  
  
"Okay, use the Shield Charm and Stun anything that moves. One the count of three we're heading for the fireplace. When you get there, throw in a handful of the powder and go to the Ministry. We'll be safe at the Ministry!" Luna said, hoping she was right. She also hoped Colin could even get up.   
  
"I'm...ready..." Colin breathed thickly.  
  
"Count of three," Luna said. She got to her feet, still crouched behind the desk. Malfoy was talking again, but she ignored him, ready to send Stunning spells in every direction. "One...two...three!"  
  
She threw two Stunning spells as she ran for the fireplace. She was dimly aware of Colin at her side. He didn't move very fast and smoke belched from his wound, yellow mucous splattering the ground from every hole in his body.   
  
"Stop them!" Malfoy bellowed and she turned, narrowly avoiding a jet of red light as it sped toward her. She shot another Stunning spell in his direction and hit someone square in the chest. They keeled over backward, but she didn't stop to watch.   
  
She reached the fireplace with Colin in tow. He wobbled on his feet, but managed to use the Shield charm to deflect someone's Stunning spell. Knowing she had no time, she grabbed up a handful of Floo powder from the jar and held it out to Colin with the hand that held her wand.   
  
Colin reached for it, but a flash of purple light slammed into the jar and it shattered. Glittering Floo powder and jagged bits of clay exploded in all directions. Luna screamed as pain went through her hand. She pulled her hand back and saw her wand was in splinters. Blood sprang up from her mangled, cut fingers as she drew them to her chest.   
  
Colin looked up at her with his liquid-looking eyes. Their gazes locked for a moment and then someone hit him square in the face with another spell. Moments later, Luna was hit with something she could only describe as pure pain--her bones were on fire and her nerves were live wires under her skin, trying to escape through the pores in her body.   
  
She screamed and tumbled backward, trying to get away from the pain. She tripped over something warm and soft and fell backward. The pain lessened slightly but she was now surrounded by searing warmth and smoke...  
  
She opened her eyes and saw she had landed on the fire in the hearth after she'd tripped over Colin's fallen body. The Death Eaters were approaching, shouting, wands raised. Colin's liquid eyes turned in her direction. There was dark black blood on his lips now and he mouthed two words.  
  
"GO NOW!"  
  
Crying inwardly, Luna threw the remaining handful of Floo powder in her fist onto the fire around her body, which immediately turned green and stopped burning her robes. She looked one last time at Colin Creevey, ducking another spell that came shooting through the flames from Draco Malfoy's wand.   
  
"MINISTRY OF MAGIC!" she screamed, ash swirling into her lungs. Seconds later she was swept away in a tornado of wind, ash and green flame.  
  
Ron watched as the Ministry owl carrying his letter to Fred and George swooped in a circle and then fluttered out the large open window leading to the outside. The Ministry's owlery was larger than the one at Hogwarts and his footsteps echoed as he walked across the bone-littered stone floor toward the exit.   
  
As he opened the door to walk out, he slammed into a solid body and jumped back in surprise. His eyes narrowed as the startled gaze of Marietta Edgecombe turned in his direction. The color seemed to leech out of her face as she took a step back and clutched her letter in her hand.  
  
"Edgecombe! Just the witch I was looking for," Ron said evenly as Marietta moved to walk around him.   
  
"You were...looking for me? And why is that?" she said, tossing her curly hair over her shoulder as she approached a tawny owl near the door. She prodded it with one finger and it immediately lifted its feathery head from beneath its wing, blinking sleepily for a moment before holding out its leg.   
  
"Oh, no particular reason," he said, attempting to make his voice more conversational. If he attacked her, she'd get defensive and there was no way he'd get anything out of her. Besides, you caught more flies with honey than vinegar. "I was concerned about you."  
  
Marietta glanced at him quickly as she finished tying her letter to the owl's leg. "Concerned? Why?"  
  
"Well I thought maybe you'd be upset about what Hermione said to you yesterday. I'm sorry about that. She's going through a lot right now. We all are."  
  
"Yes, I know. It's a shame what happened to your sister. I had no idea she was Harry's Secret-Keeper. And Harry! What a terrible tragedy!" Marietta said as the owl launched into the air and soared out the owlery window. Ron's brow furrowed at the tone of her voice. She sounded sorry enough, but the look on her face was distant. Her eyes flicked over the room and settled somewhere to the left of his face.   
  
Ron had been very good at reading body language when he'd trained to be an Auror. He was much better at it than Hermione, in fact. He knew when someone was lying and Marietta was doing a convincing job of it right then.   
  
He thought perhaps Hermione was on to something. Marietta knew something they didn't.   
  
"Yes, its horrible. But that's not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to know how you are. How is your flu?" Ron said, testing her.   
  
"Fine, thank you for asking," she responded, not looking at him as she walked past him and out the door. He followed close on her tail, noticing the stiff line of her shoulders and the way her hand went nervously through her hair. They made their way down the stairs to the door leading into the Ministry's main hall, where witches and wizards bustled to and fro on business.  
  
The golden symbols on the ceiling caught Ron's eye for a moment and when he looked down he saw Marietta hurrying across the main hall toward the lifts. He jogged to catch up with her and grabbed her arm.   
  
"About Hermione, I know she can be a little forceful sometimes, but she didn't mean any harm," he said, knowing full well that she had. Marietta pulled her arm free and took off in the opposite direction.   
  
"Well, at least one of you is polite enough to apologize to me! I was just doing my job!" she sniffed indignantly, pulling at her robes as she looked around for an exit. Ron had a feeling he was making her very uncomfortable.   
  
"I know and I thank you for that," he said as she looked around, blowing out an impatient breath. "Are you in a hurry?"  
  
"Yes, actually! I have...I have a lot to do!" she scanned the ceiling and fretted in place.   
  
"Such as? Are you waiting for something?"  
  
"The iDaily Prophet/i isn't here yet, if you must know...I...I wanted to get the Saturday edition. Now if you'll excuse me, Weasley..." she said, trailing off as a loud commotion from the opposite side of the room suddenly broke the air. Someone screamed and he saw that the neat lines of witches and wizards waiting to use the Floo network had broken and everyone was now grouped around a dark figure on the floor.   
  
Ron hurried over to the commotion, elbowing his way through the gathering throng of people. He easily towered over most of them and they let him pass rather than get charged down. Pushing aside a dark-haired witch, he looked down at the woman on the floor and gasped.   
  
Luna Lovegood's soot-blackened face and large, misty silver eyes stared up at him from her sprawl on the floor in front of one of the Ministry fireplaces. She had one hand to her chest and he was horrified to see that the hand was mangled, blood flowing down the front of her blue robes.   
  
"Ronald! Ronald, thank Merlin you're here! I..." Luna started in her misty, tear-choked voice, but she broke off with a hiss of pain. He fell to his knees beside her and half-lifted her head into his lap.   
  
"Get a healer! Someone get a healer, quickly!" he shouted and saw several people break away from the throng and charge off toward the fireplaces. Ron turned his attention back on Luna, who was shaking slightly, sweat and blood from a cut on her brow running down her face. He pressed two fingers to the cut and said her name, trying to make her distant eyes focus. "Luna? Luna can you hear me? What happened?"  
  
Luna's eyes focused and she hissed with pain again. "The iDaily Prophet/i! Death Eaters attacked this morning! They killed everyone in the building. I only just managed to Floo out!" she ground through her teeth, reaching up with her unharmed hand to clutch at Ron's arm. "Colin was still alive! Ronald, he was still alive back there! Malfoy is going to kill him!"  
  
Ron's blood ran cold at her words. Acid burned on the back of his tongue at the sound of Malfoy's name. "Why were they there, Luna?"  
  
"They're putting the word out! They want everyone to know he's dead!" Luna said, her voice hitching in her throat. Her eyes burned into his and Ron knew immediately what she meant.   
  
"Oh God...the iProphet/i! If everyone finds out, there's going to be a panic! We can't--"  
  
"Let me through! Let me through! Oh my--Luna!" Ron's head snapped up at the sound of Hermione's voice. She shoved the last milling wizard out of the way and fell down next to Ron, grabbing Luna's uninjured hand in her own. "What happened?"  
  
"Death Eaters attacked the iDaily Prophet/i." Horror grew in Hermione's eyes and her mouth opened on a gasp of terror. "Luna said they're spreading the word."  
  
He didn't have to say anything more. Hermione understood immediately and her mouth snapped closed, her eyes hardening into dark points of light in her face. She looked back down at Luna, who hissed again as a fresh wave of pain throbbed through her hand.   
  
"The wizarding world will panic if they find out he's dead--we can't let this happen," Hermione said, breathing hard.   
  
"Colin's still alive, Hermione! You have to hurry!" Luna gasped, attempting to sit up. Ron pushed her back down and looked around at the worried faces of the witches and wizards in the crowd around them.   
  
"Someone get my dad! Death Eaters have attacked the iDaily Prophet/i!" he shouted in a loud voice and the people at the back of the crowd gasped loudly.  
  
"I'll do it!" a familiar voice said and Ron looked up and met Percy's eye. His older brother was pale and the bruise on his cheek was dark and splotched with purple. Ron felt a stab of guilt as he nodded and Percy immediately Disapparated. Ron looked back at Hermione.   
  
"We need to get as many people together as we can and go to the iProphet/i before they can send out the papers. Luna?" Ron looked back down at Luna and winced at the lines of pain on her face. "How long does it take for the newspaper to come to print?"  
  
"Not long...I...the presses are magical. They'll be out soon!"  
  
"How soon, Luna?" Hermione pressed.  
  
"I'm not sure!" Luna's distant voice said and she squeezed Hermione's hand. There was a crack to Ron's left and the Minister was suddenly there, his eyes heavy but bright as people moved out of the way to let him through. Arthur Weasley's face was grave as he crouched before Luna, eyeing her wound before turning back to Ron.   
  
"What happened?" he asked and Ron relayed what Luna had told him as quickly as he could. The more time they wasted, the less likely it was they could stop the Death Eaters from spreading the news of Harry's death. Arthur took a sharp breath and swore colorfully under his breath. "Get the Aurors and the M.L.E's--we need to go in right now."   
  
"Right," Ron said as Percy knelt down next to him. Ron met his eye once more and caught a glimpse of the bruise on his face. "Thanks Perce."  
  
"Go, I'll stay with her and see that she gets to St. Mungo's," Percy said softly and then lifted Luna's head and cradled it on his lap.   
  
"Thank you Percy," Hermione said, touching his arm for a moment before looking back down at Luna. "Luna..."  
  
But evidently Hermione didn't know what to say. Luna took a deep breath, her misty eyes swimming. "Just help Colin...I left him..."  
  
"We will, Luna," Ron promised, knowing it was too late to help Colin. Luna knew it too, but it had to be said. "Be safe."  
  
"Go!" Luna said, letting go of Hermione's hand. Ron stood and heard several cracks behind him. The healer from St. Mungo's bustled through the crowd carrying a black medical bag. Ron didn't stop to watch as they knelt over Luna. He Apparated directly into Auror headquarters with Hermione one step behind. His father Apparated several feet away and at the noise and sudden appearance of the three of them, the Aurors still in the office turned, looking up from paperwork.   
  
"Death Eaters attacked the iDaily Prophet/i this morning," his father announced gravely, meeting each face in turn.  
  
"WHAT?" Tonks roared, her eyes turning round as saucers in her heart-shaped face. Remus stepped forward, a hand falling on her shoulder as if to restrain her.   
  
"Why?" he asked calmly.  
  
"They're spreading the word of Potter's death," Blaire said from his desk. His dark eyes were shrewd as he looked at them all. Ron frowned and looked back at his father, who nodded.   
  
"Exactly right. We need to go now and see if there are survivors and if we can stop them from putting out the papers--" Arthur began, but choked off when a large brown bird swooped into the room.   
  
Instinctively the Minister held out his hands. The owl dropped the object into his hands and lighted on a filing cabinet, holding out its leg for payment. Arthur ignored it and unrolled the newspaper, which seemed to consist of only one page. His haggard face screwed up in defeat immediately as he looked at the large black headline.   
  
"Dammit," he breathed, slamming the newspaper down on the desk before him, his teeth gritted. Ron leaned forward slightly to read the black words and felt his stomach clench.  
  
"POTTER DIES AT THE HANDS OF THE DARK LORD, DARK LORD UNSTOPPABLE" it read. A short article appeared beneath the headline, but Ron didn't have the stomach to read it.   
  
"That's it then. The word is out and we can't stop that now," Arthur said bracingly, looking up with burning eyes at them all. "Every witch and wizard in England is going to get this paper shortly and they're going to panic. Which is exactly what Lord Voldemort wants. Damage control, people. We need to start it now before we have a full scale riot on our hands. I want all of you to go the iProphet/i and see if there are survivors. The Death Eaters have what they want now and I doubt they're still there. Still, do what you can."  
  
Ron nodded and with a glance at the others, he headed toward the lifts, feeling Hermione at his elbow and hearing the footsteps of the other Aurors as they followed. He had no idea what he'd find at the iDaily Prophet/i, but as he ducked another owl with the newspaper clutched in its beak, he fervently hoped the Death Eaters were still there.   
  
Especially Malfoy.  
  



	8. Chapter Seven

  
  
"Oh my God," Hermione breathed as the dust settled around her, the blown-in front doors of the iDaily Prophet/i in shambles beneath her feet. Aurors and M.L.E.'s swarming in behind her, wands drawn, eyes flicking about for signs of movement.   
  
But there was none. Nothing stirred but the dust from the doors. The bottom floor of the three-story building was devoid of life, at least ten bodies strewn across the floor. There was blood on the large Daily Prophet sign and more pooled on the floor.  
  
She took this in as Ron pushed past her, his jaw a stern line. His wand was clutched tightly in his fingers and he looked around with an expression of utter disgust on his face. Hermione watched as he walked across the room and rolled over the nearest figure. It was an old witch, her face heavily lined with wrinkles, mouth slack and eyes clouded over.   
  
His hand shaking, Ron closed her eyes and pulled her cloak up over her head to hide her from view.   
  
"What the hell happened here?" Ron asked, looking up, flicking his red hair out of his eyes.   
  
"The Death Eaters struck the bottom floor first, made sure no one would get out and then sealed the door so no one could get in from Diagon Alley. Then they moved upward...where most of the employees were," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, casting his gaze toward the lifts, the doors twisted from some great blow.   
  
"How many do you suppose...?" Hermione started. "Today is a Saturday, is the iProphet/i fully staffed on weekends?"  
  
"No," Arthur Weasley said, his face green. "But there are enough here, getting the Saturday edition out. The place is never completely staffed. Reporters out finding the stories and all..."  
  
The Minister looked like he was ready to be sick. Hermione suddenly wondered when the last time he'd slept had been. The lines on his face seemed to be gouged even deeper and his eyes held no spark of life.   
  
"We should head to the second floor, dad," Ron said lightly, noticing the look on his father's face. "You should go back to the Ministry. There's nothing you can do here."  
  
Arthur looked up at his youngest son and a look of gratitude crossed his face. "Yes, you're right Ron. There's too much to do. I have to get back. Be careful."   
  
"We will, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said, placing one hand on Ron's shoulder. Arthur nodded at her and then Disapparated, his face so forlorn that Hermione cast a worried glance Ron's way. Ron looked away and sighed heavily.  
  
"Mum told me the other night that he hasn't been sleeping well, but he's still up to the job. He's a great Minister," Ron said in a tired voice.   
  
"Of course he is. But he's got a lot on his plate. He's stretching himself too thin," she said, feeling sick once more. Damn this war. She knew as soon as Mr. Weasley arrived back at the Ministry, he'd have a whole new set of problems to deal with as the news of Harry's death spread. The wizarding world would be in turmoil and the blame for the tragedy would be put squarely on Mr. Weasley's shoulders. It didn't seem fair, somehow.   
  
"Come on," Ron said, turning away and stepping gingerly over the dead witch on the floor. The lift was inoperable, but the single set of narrow, rickety stairs beside them were in tact and several Aurors and M.L.E.'s had already climbed them to the massacre on the second floor. As soon as Hermione hit the second floor landing, the smell of rotten eggs overwhelmed her and her eyes immediately watered.   
  
"What is tha--?" But before she could finish the question, Ron wheeled and grabbed her by the forearms, pushing her back toward the stairs. "Ron! What are you doing?"  
  
Ron's face was green and his nostrils flared. Heavy yellow smoke roiled around his head. "You don't want to see, trust me."  
  
Hermione's stomach lurched. "See what?"  
  
"I think its Colin," he said shortly. Hermione's eyes widened.  
  
"What do you mean, you ithink/i its Colin?" she demanded, the stench of the smoke nearly choking her.   
  
"There isn't much left. But there's enough," Ron said staunchly, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his brown orbs looked haunted. He resembled his father and Hermione's heart gave a lurch.   
  
"Ron, I have to see. Its my job."  
  
"No its not. They have specialists coming soon. You don't have to see this," Ron insisted, grabbing her by the arm and attempting to pull her away. Hermione saw something in his eyes, something that scared her.  
  
"Is it that bad?"  
  
"Its bad," Ron glanced backward and then looked at her again. His eyes were dead and scared. "We need to go see about Luna. I have a few questions I want to ask her. They can handle this without us."  
  
Hermione nodded. "I have a few myself. I want to know everything that happened here."  
  
Ron nodded gravely and together they set off for St. Mungo's.   
  
Lukewarm tap water flooded Harry's mouth, choking his swollen, abused throat and swirling downward. He sputtered and gasped, but welcomed the cool wet on his dry, cottony tongue. He can't remember when he'd last taken a drink of anything, even fusty tasting water. The glass was pulled away too soon and he was left gasping, longing for more, his stomach rumbling. He was weak with more than just hunger and as he peered blurrily into the dimly lit room, his head swam dangerously.  
  
He fought to remain conscious, not completely sure what was keeping him going and not caring.   
  
Bellatrix Lestrange's dark, heavy lidded eyes greeted his in the darkness, the glass of water in her clawed fingers. A smile twisted her lips.  
  
"There, there boy. Is that better?" she cooed, her eyes sparkling in the darkness. If Harry could have, he'd have spat on her. But he needed all the moisture he could get and as he swallowed, throat rasping, pain everywhere that wasn't numb, he managed to smile.  
  
"Much."  
  
"Say thank you," Bellatrix said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on his leg. Pain spidered up his limbs from the contact, but he merely grit his teeth against it and glared at her.   
  
"Fuck you," he ground out, as much venom in his weary, abused voice as he could muster. Her smile grew sharp and pointed like a razorblade.   
  
"You're welcome, Potter," she said, leaning back on her heels, her blood red robes pooled around her legs. There was a fleck of blood darkening her elbows from his legs. None of his wounds had been cared for and several were infected. Harry could smell them and it made him sick again. He still had a fever too and it made him sweat and sway on the chair they had him tied to. His dislocated shoulder was beyond pain; he could no longer feel it, though is broken and cracked ribs send sparks of red pain across his vision with every breath he took.  
  
"M'dying," he mumbled wearily, blinking at Bellatrix.   
  
"Yes, you are," she said with no emotion in her voice. "How does it feel?"  
  
"Good. Warm and welcoming," he said to his surprise. "Is she here?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Ginny."   
  
"No, Potter. She betrayed you. Why would we kill her if she helped us?"  
  
Pain flooded him. She'd used Legilimency to gain access to his thoughts and memories; she'd seen everything in his mind, everything about Ginny and himself and she knew the depth of his love for her. Now she was using that against him. She had to be.   
  
She was lying. He knew she had to be lying. Ginny would never...  
  
But the seed of doubt had been sowed somewhere along the way. Deep in his fever-addled brain he'd allowed himself to believe, if only for a moment, that what she said was true and that Ginny had betrayed him. There was no other answer and logic demanded he entertain the possibility.   
  
His heart wouldn't allow the seed to grow though. Everything inside of him screamed not to believe Bellatrix Lestrange's poisonous words and he wanted to listen to it, but it hurt too much to put enough effort behind his disbelief.   
  
Bellatrix smiled at him again, sharp and glinting. "You believe me, don't you Potter?"  
  
"No," he said, but his conviction was nowhere to be seen. "I love her. She'd die before she betrayed me."  
  
"How young and naive, you are, Potter. Your bitch of a Secret-Keeper knew that about you and that's why she was so successful in fooling you. She was perfect for the job. Very eager to take it too."  
  
"No. NO!" Harry moaned, his eyes too dry to cry, though he wanted to. He wanted to weep. Bellatrix touched his face and he felt his scar twinge.   
  
"Yes, Potter," she said. "The Dark Lord was very pleased with her. He gave her to my nephew, you know."  
  
"What?" Harry's splintered mind suddenly sharpened and he glared at Bellatrix. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Draco has been fascinated with Miss Weasley for years, you know. He's always wanted to get his hands on her. And according to him she was...very accommodating."  
  
Anger flared inside of him and he felt sick, but he had nothing to throw up. "She'd never let that slime touch her."  
  
"There's a lot you don't know about Ginevra Weasley, Potter."  
  
"I know her better than anyone," he insisted, disgusted by the look on Bellatrix's face. "She would never do that."  
  
"I wonder, if you keep telling yourself that, will you believe it?" she laughed at him. "The Dark Lord will be so pleased by your ignorance, Potter."  
  
Harry glared at her. "I'm sure he would be, if he ever showed his cowardly face."  
  
Bellatrix's eyes flashed. "The Dark Lord is no coward."  
  
"Is he?" Harry said. "Then why he's letting you do all his dirty work?"  
  
Bellatrix looked confused. "What does that mean, Potter?"  
  
"He's terrified of me, you know. He knows that I'll kill him if he ever shows his ugly, twisted face. I've almost done it too many times to count and he's managed to slither out of my grasp every time. He's scared of me and always has been because he doesn't understand me."  
  
"The Dark Lord isn't scared of anything, Potter," Bellatrix snapped haughtily. "Along with mortality, he's managed to get rid of a fair few base instincts humans suffer through. He's beyond it all."  
  
"Is he? Then why is he letting you torture me until I'm near death? Why hasn't he come into this room himself, even once? Its not like I can get up and face him, is it? He's terrified of coming near me and he knows it," Harry spat at her. Bellatrix's eyes widened.  
  
"He can't be bothered with you, Potter. You're insignificant to him. A nuisance."  
  
"You really believe that, Bellatrix?" Harry challenged, feeling his old self coming back, despite his exhaustion and pain. "Or is that what your precious Lord Voldemort told you? He lied to you about his parentage...what makes you think he wouldn't lie to you about me?"  
  
"How dare you say his name!" Bellatrix screamed, her eyes widening. "My Master would never...he isn't afraid of you Potter! He wants you broken down like the dog you are before he reveals to you the world he's going to make once he takes over. He'll be the supreme ruler of all the wizarding world and you'll be alive long enough to see everyone you love die screaming."  
  
"Trying that old hat again, is he?" Harry countered, laughing wearily. "His dream is flawed, Bellatrix. It always has been."  
  
"And why, pray tell, is that?"   
  
"Because there will always be someone like me to fight him. People don't want to live in fear; they don't want to bow to anyone. Only filth like you is content with a life of blind servitude. Only fools join the wrong side of a fight."  
  
"I am not the fool, Potter. You and the Order, the Aurors and the Minister of Magic...they're the fools. Albus Dumbledore, he was the greatest fool of all and we killed him for it," she spat, her teeth bared.   
  
"Albus Dumbledore was greater than all of you combined. It took a hundred Death Eaters to kill him," Harry said, remembering clearly that night. It still hurt to think of it.  
  
"We still killed him. That makes him the fool," Bellatrix said.  
  
Harry didn't respond, he just looked hard at her. He decided to go for the throat. "Rodolphus Lestrange tried to recant his allegiance to Voldemort before I killed him."  
  
All the blood drained from Bellatrix's face suddenly and her full mouth tightened. "What?"  
  
"Didn't you know? I'm the one who killed your husband, Bellatrix," Harry said calmly, lifting his head, shoulder screaming. "Nearly a year ago, I cornered him in the fight at Hogsmeade. He spilled his cowardly guts right there in the street and said he'd never meant any of it and that if I just let him go, he could deliver anyone I wanted. Anyone. Even you."  
  
"You're lying. Rodolphus wouldn't have--"  
  
"He was going to betray you, Bellatrix. He would have if I hadn't killed him out of hand. He meant nothing to me. I killed him because I could," Harry said coldly. Bellatrix was breathing hard, her face pale, the glass of water in her hands shaking, water sloshing against the sides.   
  
"No. No, my Rodolphus died a hero. He died for the Dark Lord. He went down fighting!"  
  
"I wonder, if you keep telling yourself that, will you believe it?"  
  
Bellatrix's hand flashed and Harry's head reeled under the blow. Pain radiated from his cheek and the back of his head cracked against the back of the chair. Through his pained, blurred eyes, he saw her stand. She was trembling from head to foot. Suddenly she grabbed her left forearm and grimaced. She rolled the sleeve up and Harry could just make out a black splotch on her skin.  
  
He knew it was the Dark Mark. Voldemort was calling his Death Eaters.  
  
"I wouldn't get comfortable if I were you, Potter. My Master has many plans for this day and when its over, everything and everyone you know will be history," Bellatrix said. She leaned in close, still trembling. The Dark Mark burningly blackly on her arm came into sharp focus. It was an ugly thing and Harry couldn't take his eyes off of it. "A new world is being born, Potter. I can't wait for you to see my Master's victory."  
  
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving him alone in the foul, dark room. Harry sagged in his chair and closed his eyes, too heart sore and sickened with anger to keep them open.  
  
He hoped that when Bellatrix entered this room once more, he'd be long gone from his battered body and that he wouldn't have to endure any longer. His prayers did not come true.  
  
Ginny held her breath as the door swung open, pale sunlight flooding her vision. She blinked and raised the wand, but the hall before her was empty. She didn't even glance behind her as she stepped out of the room where the dead Death Eater lay. The door closed behind her and she immediately locked it again so that it didn't look suspicious. She didn't know how long it would be before someone knew she was missing, but she needed every second she could get.   
  
The long had a window at one end, where sunlight seemed to be coming in. There were no decorations on the walls, only rough brick like in the room where she'd been kept. The air smelled slightly sour, like old milk. There were also no doors and no place to escape to should anyone come down the hallway from the opposite direction.   
  
She crept along the wall, the wand ready, a spell already on her lips at any sign of movement around the corner. She got to the end of the hallway, her legs shaking and dared to peer around the corner. She immediately pulled back as she saw a pair of rickety metal steps leading downward.   
  
Breathing hard, she peered again and saw the steps were empty. They led downward into a slightly shadowed room, where she could just see metal machinery. Her attention left the stairs and went to the window in the wall. The sun was casting gold light on the glass and it drew her toward it.   
  
The window was large and square, the glass so old it was rippled and warped. Peering through its cloudy depths, her eyes widened, as she looked down into a large room filled with machinery so heavy with dust and bird droppings that it must have been sitting empty for years. There were long lines of dusty bottles curving through the room on conveyor belts. Peering harder, she spotted a crate with the words "Blackwell's Dairy" on it.  
  
It was a Muggle dairy, then. Ginny drew in a sharp, painful breath. She didn't understand it. Why had the Death Eaters brought her here to a dairy? A Muggle one at that. Where was she?  
  
From her vantage point, she could see the bottom of the rickety steps and the door that led to the outside. There was no one in sight and her way out was free. Something seemed off though. Where was everyone?  
  
She remembered suddenly the Death Eater's mention of an attack on the iDaily Prophet/i. That must be it. They didn't think she could get free, so they'd set one Death Eater to guard her while the rest attacked the newspaper. She feared for the people in danger, but she had to thank her good fortune.   
  
She needed to get out of there and fast. Clutching her aching sides, she slowly made it down the rusty, rickety metal stairs and walked softly across the ground floor of the dairy, past the dusty, long dormant machines and clouded bottles on the conveyor belts. The door was locked, but she opened it with a tap of her wand and it swung inward with a creak.   
  
Panic set in. She had no idea what was outside of the dairy, but she wasn't going to stay inside of it and wait for the Death Eaters to come back; for Malfoy to come back for her. Thinking of him made her walk through the door, cold sunlight hitting her, making her squint once more.   
  
The dairy was set on a small hill, mist curling around its base. A gravel road led downward, where she could see the tops of houses and the spire of a church. She spotted telephone and power lines crisscrossing through the village and nearly cried. Muggles would be very little help, but she could at least find safety among them. She could hide with them and then make her way back to London, or the nearest safe place she could find.   
  
The sun was just up and over the rise of the green hills the village was nestled in. She had no trouble darting from tree to tree on her way down the hill toward the village. She still held the wand at the ready, but nothing bigger than a bird disturbed the unnatural quiet. She entered the village after a few minutes and ran for the nearest house.   
  
A ramshackle stone cottage stood at the edge of the village. Its yard was unkempt and the windows were dark. She ran to the front door and knocked several times, but no one stirred inside.   
  
An oppressive feeling of panic rose in her. Something about the village felt off to her. Through the misty streets she made her way, keeping close to the houses and knocking on every door she came to. Not one person opened the door to her, though she thought she saw dark human shadows behind curtains several times.   
  
It didn't take her long to get to the town square and she staring down the empty square at the darkened buildings. None of the businesses were open.  
  
Ginny began to panic again. Something was definitely wrong here. She had the sudden feeling that she needed to get out of the village. There was something wrong in it and she had a feeling she didn't want to know what that something was.   
  
She was too weak to Apparate and she had no broom or floo powder and a fireplace connected to the Floo network. She'd have to make her way on foot to someplace safe and hope that she didn't meet anything unfriendly on her way.   
  
As she turned, she spotted a small sign hanging above a doorway. Her eyes widened immediately.   
  
"Little Hangleton Haberdashery," Ginny read out loud, her voice deafening in the misty, empty village square. "Little Hangleton... That's where...no...no I can't be here!"  
  
Pure fear took hold of her. Turning on her heel, Ginny ran down the middle of the street. She had to get out of the village as quickly as possible. Running full out, knees quavering, head spinning with weakness and hunger, she turned a corner off the village square and nearly screamed as she came face to face someone.  
  
She skidded to a halt on the slippery cobbles and gasped, the wand she'd stolen rising of its own accord.   
  
"Lost, dearie?" Ginny watched as an old woman, face wrinkled, toothless mouth gaping open, stepped forward out of the mist and eyed her.   
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Me? Just an old woman, dearie. You be one of them?" the old woman said, eyeing her wand.   
  
"One of what?" Ginny said, breathing so fast she could barely stand.   
  
"iThem/i what walk around with their sticks and make us afraid to leave the house at night," she said, her gaze still on the wand. Ginny lowered it slightly.   
  
"Yes and no. I'm not like them. Can you help me? I need to...to get off the street," Ginny said, feeling the last of her strength leaving her. The old woman eyed her beadily and fear sparked in the old woman's clouded eyes. She shook her head and swallowed hard, leaning on a knobbly cane.   
  
"Can't. I stays out of their way and they don't do me like they do the others."  
  
"What others?"  
  
The old woman ignored Ginny's question and peered hard at Ginny. "What did they do to you?"  
  
Fresh tears welled in Ginny's eyes at the concern on the old woman's face. "Please, can you help me?"  
  
Something broke in the old woman. She nodded and looked down the empty street, then gestured for Ginny to follow her. It was a short walk to a small cottage on a side street, chickens pecking at the dirt yard. As soon as they entered the house, the old woman pushed Ginny down into a chair and locked the door up tight. The shades were drawn and the lights were off. Several candles burned in holders on the shelves.   
  
Feeling slightly safer, Ginny tried to slow her breathing. She needed to think and she needed answers. The old woman sat down in a rocking chair and slung a shotgun over her fat legs. Her gnarled hands fingered the trigger, as she looked Ginny over.   
  
"Want answers, do ye?" the old woman asked.  
  
"Yes. What happened here? Little Hangleton...I...when did the wizards show up?"  
  
"That what They are?"  
  
"Yes," Ginny said, knowing she didn't have time to beat around the bush about it. The old woman nodded as if she was confirming her suspicions. Then she went on.  
  
"Been here fer about three years. They walk the streets most times at night, but They like the daytime too. Nobody knows who they is and lots of people askin' come up missin'. Anyone who knows something's either found dead--some without a scratch on em--or they just don't remember nothin' 'bout 'nothin' like they's memory gone. Whole town's scared to go to Greater Hangleton to the constable and complain because They'd know."  
  
"Have you seen them?"  
  
"Surely have. Killed Eustace Plant on m'front lawn four months ago. Was afraid to leave and help him or They'd turn on me too. Heard stories 'bout the pub too. They says things come in there now. The drunks don't care 'bout nothin' but the drink, but they tells tales about things happening in there. People disappearing outta thin air and monsters what couldn't be," she said, rocking in the chair, her finger still on the trigger. Ginny didn't blame her for holding the thing and looking like she didn't trust her.   
  
"What were you doing out this morning if you're so scared, then?" Ginny asked, rubbing her temples wearily.   
  
"Was heading to the grocers. I needed some things. Figured I'd try it during the day, less of Them are out," she replied, still watching Ginny. "Old Jim keeps it open some days and people come in when They aren't on the streets."   
  
"That's brave of you to go alone, ma'am," Ginny said with a certain amount of respect for the old woman.   
  
"Not brave, dearie, just too old to know better. Now, you tell me why you were out on the streets and why you look like you've been dragged 'neath a lorry. And why do you have one of their sticks?"  
  
"I can't explain, even if I wanted to. Just please, trust me when I say that some wizards are bad and some wizards are good. I'm one of the good ones," Ginny said, feeling the urge to cry again.   
  
The old woman looked at her hard and then said, "They gonna come lookin' fer you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then I can't let you stay," she said, rocking still.  
  
Ginny nodded and stood, looking toward the window, where Little Hangleton stood in its terrified silence. "I understand."  
  
The old woman continued to rock and then she sighed. "Well I can't let you go lookin' like death warmed over. You'll shower and change and I'll make you something to eat fer you go or I wouldn't be the woman me mum raised me to be."  
  
Ginny wanted to cry from relief and gratitude. "Thank you."  
  
"Thank me by being quick about it. Loo's in there," she said, gesturing toward a door on Ginny's right with her gnarled finger. "I'll make you somethin' quick and you can eat and then leave."  
  
Ginny nodded and headed for the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and sagged against it, not feeling safe, but hidden for the moment. The bathroom was small, but clean and she was thankful for that. She turned on the taps to the shower and turned to look in the mirror above the sink.  
  
Her stomach dropped when she saw her red eyes, the bruises on her face and the dried clumps of vomit in her hair. No wonder the old woman had brought her home--she looked horrible. As she looked at her own reflection, a reflection she barely recognized, Ginny knew she wasn't leaving Little Hangleton.  
  
She would find the Riddle House, where she knew the person she hated most in the world was, and she would make him pay for what he'd done. Ginny smiled even as tears escaped her eyes.   
  
As always, the streets of Little Hangleton were deserted when the group of Death Eaters in on the raid at the iDaily Prophet/i arrived back in town. The Muggles fearing for their lives were nowhere to be found and had long since locked their doors up against a threat they didn't understand and couldn't fight. Little did they know that if any of the Death Eaters wanted to, their locks would not stop any of them from entering their houses.   
  
Draco Malfoy smiled at that thought as he Apparated from the main street into the deserted dairy on the hill above the village. The crack of the magic echoed in the dusty recesses of the dairy as he headed toward the rickety stairs in the back that lead to the storeroom.   
  
His blood lust was up and not only that, he was hungry. He'd had Ginny Weasley on his mind the entire morning at the iDaily Prophet/i. He couldn't wait to tell her about the massacre. He wanted to see her cry when he told her how Colin Creevey had died. He'd lie to her about Luna Lovegood of course. His pride was still stinging from her escape and he knew he'd soon have to report to his Master about it and suffer the consequences.  
  
But first, he wanted his reward for a job well done. The first thing he noticed as he turned down the hallway toward the storeroom was that Bletchley wasn't at his post. Draco's eyes narrowed.  
  
If he found him inside with Ginny he'd kill him. She was his and his alone and everyone who knew that Ginny was still alive, knew it. With a flick of his wrist, the door flew open. Draco stormed inside and stopped dead as the light from outside flooded the dark room.   
  
Bletchley was still and unseeing on the floor. Ginny was nowhere to be found, though it didn't take long before Draco had smashed every crate in the room to bits searching for her.   
  
Breathing hard amid the debris, his slick silver-blonde hair falling into his mercury eyes, Draco's lip curled, anger flowing through him.   
  
Ginny Weasley was a very, very bad girl and when he found her, she'd regret thinking she could escape him.  
  
It was nearly two hours of waiting before the healers declared Luna ready for visitors. Walking through the Artifact Accidents ward on the ground floor of St. Mungo's, Ron's hand snaked into Hermione's and he squeezed her fingers. He still felt sick from what he'd seen in the iDaily Prophet/i building, but he wasn't letting it pray on his mind.  
  
He'd learned long ago how to shut off his mind to the things he'd seen. It was the only thing keeping him from collapsing half of the time, though he knew he'd pay for it later. Usually in his sleep. Ron's dreams were never pleasant anymore, but that was his price to pay and he was sure he wasn't the only one whose dreams were riddled with old memories and fear these days.  
  
Hermione shot him a smile, though it was distracted. He knew the look in her eyes. She was thinking at an incredible rate, questions flying back and forth across her mind. They both had things they wanted to ask Luna, though he didn't want to put her through the trauma of remembering what had happened a few hours earlier. It was his job though and he knew Luna would understand.  
  
Luna was propped up in a bed, her long blonde hair splayed against a pillow, bandaged hand in a sling. The healers had told them that she'd nearly lost a finger, but they'd managed to save it. There was a bandage on her forehead and her skin was so white it nearly blended in. Her large, protuberant eyes were closed, eyelids waxy.   
  
Percy was sitting in one of the two chairs at her bedside. He just nodded at them when they walked in, but kept silent. When they reached the bed, Hermione let go of his hand and sat on the edge of the bed, taking Luna's uninjured hand in her own. "Luna?"  
  
Luna's eyes opened and focused on first Hermione and then Ron. A faint smile played on her lips. "Hullo."  
  
"Hi there. How do you feel?" Hermione asked gently, though Ron could see she was bursting to launch into her questions.  
  
"Like a Blast-Ended Skrewt got hold of me," Luna said, giggling slightly. Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron, but he just nodded. The healers had told them they'd given Luna a pretty powerful pain potion and that she'd be slightly out of it. The trouble was, out of it for Luna was a whole different thing from other people.   
  
"The healers say it won't take long for your hand to heal. You'll be back to writing your articles for the iProphet/i again in no time," Ron said, crouching down and landing a kiss on her forehead. Luna smiled again and nodded, her eyes blinking sleepily.   
  
"I'm tired," Luna said with a breathy sigh. "Please ask me your questions before I fall asleep..."  
  
Hermione managed a weak laugh. "Forgot how smart you are, Luna."  
  
"Not that smart," Luna said softly, her eyes turning mournful. One tear welled up and tracked down her waxen cheek. "Colin's dead isn't he?"  
  
Ron looked away as Hermione sighed. "Yes."  
  
Another tear escaped down Luna's cheek. "I left him."  
  
"It wasn't your fault, Luna," Ron said forcefully, his insides freezing with sympathy and sorrow. "Those damned Death Eaters..."  
  
Luna made a small whimper in the back of her throat, but she didn't say anything else. Her grief was beyond words. Percy stood and moved to comfort her, his bruised face serious. Luna smiled vaguely at him as he touched her cheek.   
  
"Luna, I know it's hard, but I need to ask you a few questions," Hermione started, her voice soft.   
  
"I know you do, Hermione. Please ask them. If I know anything that helps you, I want you to know it," Luna said, sitting up a little so that she wasn't in danger of falling asleep again. Her eyelids still drooped though and the potion she'd taken was really doing its best to befuddle her.  
  
"How many Death Eaters were there?"   
  
"I'm not sure. Nearly twenty, I think."  
  
"Did you know any of them?"  
  
"Draco Malfoy was one of them. Blaise Zabini too. I didn't hear any other names and they were all masked," Luna said immediately, trying to focus.   
  
"What did they want?"  
  
"My article on Harry's death. I had written one in anticipation of the announcement, but we weren't to publish it until the Minister gave us the word. But they were only playing with us. They had written their own. They had planned on the massacre from the start," she said.   
  
Ron swallowed hard and sat down in the chair beside the bed.   
  
"Did they say anything to you? About Harry or Ginny? Especially Malfoy."  
  
Luna appeared to be thinking hard. She squeezed her eyes shut and screwed up her mouth. "Malfoy...I asked him how he captured Ginny and...and he said something. Something about You-Know-Who's spies." Her eyes opened again.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And he said...he said there was someone in the Ministry of Magic. A spy," Luna said.  
  
"Are you sure?" Percy asked, leaning forward. He looked aghast at the news.  
  
"Yes," Luna said, meeting his bespectacled gaze.  
  
"Did he say who it was?" Ron asked, glancing at Hermione.  
  
"No. I'm sorry," Luna said, her face turning slightly gray. Ron nodded and glanced at Hermione. They'd gotten all they were going to get from her and they both knew it. She needed rest.   
  
Just as Ron was about to get up, there was a commotion from the other end of the ward. Ron's attention snapped to the doorway and he saw two familiar, identical heads of flaming red hair bobbing around the outstretched hands of the healer attempting to keep them out of the ward.  
  
"We have patients who need REST! You can't just burst into here and upset my patients!" the healer screamed at them, upsetting the patients.   
  
"Bugger off! This is important business!" Fred said, shoving past the healer and heading toward Luna's bed. "There you are!"  
  
"What's going on?" Ron demanded, getting up as Fred and George reached Luna's bed. Both of them looked as wan and tired as Luna, but they had smiles of triumph on their faces. Ron was definitely not prepared for what they told him in the next instant.  
  
"We know where You-Know-Who is!" Fred and George said together.  
  



	9. Chapter Eight

  
  
"What do you mean?" Hermione demanded as Fred and George's brown eyes widened, waiting for a reaction to their news. Her head spun with the words that had just come from both their mouths.  
  
"We mean, we've heard a rumor," Fred said.  
  
"That You-Know-Who is hiding out in a village named Little Hangelton," George finished for his twin.  
  
"Heard of it?" both Fred and George said together.   
  
Hermione's head spun. "What a moment. Where did you hear this?"  
  
"From a hag," George said matter-of-factly.  
  
"A hag?" Ron repeated numbly.   
  
"Yes, a hag. Now come on, let's go!" Fred said impatiently. Hermione held up both hands and stared at the twins.   
  
"Slow down! Tell us everything. Who is this hag and how does she know where You-Know-Who is?" she asked, trying to get her thoughts in order.   
  
George sighed impatiently and glanced at his twin. "Shall I?"  
  
"Do!" Fred said, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"The hag is a great customer of ours and she happens to also supply us with er...shall we say, our more interesting and hard to come by ingredients."  
  
"Hag-skin for one. Sheds like a snake, that one."  
  
"Needless to say, we've pulled her out of a few tight spots and she owed us one. Completely loyal. We know she has a lot of connections to some seedy people, so we called her--"  
  
"Nightmare calling a hag, honestly," Fred interjected again. George shot him a quelling look and Fred gestured for him to go on.  
  
"Right, so she came and we asked her a few questions."  
  
"'Have you heard anything about You-Know-Who?'"   
  
"'Seen anything suspicious lately?'"  
  
"That sort of thing. She tells us in no uncertain terms that if we were looking for You-Know-Who, we'd try a twee village up north called Little Hangleton. The town pub, The Hanged Man, seems to have become a regular spot for hags and vampires and any creature not usually welcome in polite society since the Hog's Head's demise in the last Death Eater attack in Hogsmeade," Fred said triumphantly.   
  
"And what has that got to do with You-Know-Who?" Ron asked, just as confused as Hermione.  
  
"Lucretia also says that Muggles aren't a problem because they're all scared to come out because the place is crawling with Death Eaters. Have the whole town scared. People who ask questions end up dead and some of the Death Eaters have taken it upon themselves to attack any Muggle seen out after dark."  
  
Hermione' s mouth fell open. "If this is true--"  
  
"True as my eyes are brown--" Fred swore, holding up his hand.   
  
"Then why haven't we heard anything? There are wards on Little Hangleton. They were set up ages ago and they haven't been disturbed," Hermione said, frowning.   
  
"Yes they have, Hermione. Wards can be fooled by a powerful wizard and who is more powerful than You-Know-Who?" George insisted. "It all fits! He's there!"  
  
"But...Blaire!"  
  
"What?" Ron asked, turning to Hermione. His brow was furrowed and he looked sick again, but excited just the same. They were on the trail now and she knew it, but something was sitting cold with Hermione.  
  
"Edric Blaire. He went there to Little Hangleton last night. He went to the Riddle House to check the wards, remember?" Hermione said slowly.  
  
Understanding flooded Ron's eyes. "He said the wards hadn't been disturbed."  
  
"He was late for work too, which could mean anything."  
  
"And now according to Luna we have a spy in the Ministry. Son of a bitch--its Blaire!" Ron said angrily, turning away and kicking at an empty bed. The metal frame rattled, jarring Hermione's already frayed nerves.   
  
"I'm not so sure, Ron. Marietta Edgecombe--"  
  
Ron whirled to face her and stopped. "Wait a minute--Marietta! She said something just before Luna flooed into the Ministry. She was waiting on the iDaily Prophet/i and I could tell she was lying about something. I forgot until now!"   
  
"Edgecombe? From the Portkey Office?" Percy asked Ron. He nodded as he paced, looking like a caged, angry lion as he did so. "I saw her run off when the commotion over Luna started. She ran past me as I was making my way toward the crowd."  
  
"Did you see where she was going?" Hermione asked.  
  
"No, but she looked upset," Percy said thoughtfully.   
  
"Ron, what did she say to you?" Hermione asked, turning back to Ron, who was still pacing.   
  
"I didn't get a chance to really interrogate her before the thing with Luna happened. But when she told me she was sorry about Harry and Ginny and how she didn't know Ginny was Harry's Secret-Keeper, I could tell she was lying about how she felt. I just KNEW," Ron said vehemently.  
  
Hermione stopped and closed her eyes. Something about what Ron had said didn't feel right. "Wait a moment, Ron. She said she knew Ginny was Harry's Secret-Keeper?"  
  
"Yeah, so?"  
  
"Ron no one knows that but the Aurors, your family and Remus," Hermione said slowly. "The wizarding world just knows Ginny is missing!"  
  
"Colin, Davies and I knew she was, but we only found out at the scene of the explosion. The Minister forbid us to tell anyone," Luna said wearily from her bed. She was still fighting sleep, but she looked very interested in what was going on.   
  
"No one else at the Ministry knows?" Fred asked, chewing on his bottom lip.   
  
"No one should. Dad's keeping it quiet. The Aurors wouldn't tell anyone, I'm sure of it," Ron said, looking even angrier.   
  
"Which means she either knew already or someone told her. That leads us back to Blaire," Hermione said, fighting the urge to pace as Ron was.   
  
"Both of them?" George suggested, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"I guess we'll find out, won't we?" Hermione said bracingly. "Both of them are getting visits today and so help me if I find out either of them had anything to do with it..."  
  
Ron saw the anger and hatred in her eyes and matched it with his own. "If they're behind this, we'll get them and stop them. Whatever they have planned, they haven't got away with it. Not yet."  
  
Hermione turned and faced Luna, who was still sitting upright in her bed. "Luna..."  
  
"Go, I'm fine. If Ginny is...good luck," Luna said, nodding at them. Hermione managed a tight-lipped smile as Percy sat down in a chair beside Luna's bed once more.  
  
"You go, I can stay with her until her father gets here. He's coming in from Sweden tonight," Percy said. Luna's eyes had already closed. Hermione nodded. Ron, standing awkwardly at his brother's side, clasped one hand on his shoulder and squeezed.  
  
"Thanks Percy," Ron said, letting go quickly.   
  
"Go on, go," Percy said, looking touched, but embarrassed.  
  
Hermione started to walk out of the ward, when she noticed Fred and George following. "Where do you think you two are going?"  
  
"We're going with you," Fred said stubbornly.  
  
"Can't stop us now that we know," George said just as stubbornly as his twin.   
  
"I don't think--" she started, but Ron cut her off.  
  
"They're coming too, Hermione. We need to tell Dad what we know and they're the ones who know the full story," Ron said, pushing past his brothers and steering her toward the door. Hermione gave in. She knew she needed all the help she could get. Even Fred and George's.  
  
He moved quickly through the pristine, clean halls of the Ministry. The Minister of Magic's office was right around the corner and he needed to get in there without anyone seeing him do it. Owls flew in all different directions--a result of the iDaily Prophet/i article the Dark Lord had released. The wizarding world was waking up to panic and fear and the atmosphere in the Ministry was one of desperation and impotence.  
  
The Minister's door was open to allow the owls to fly in and out. Arthur Weasley sat behind his gigantic oak desk, stacks of papers and scrolls and letters piled so high upon the surface that his balding, red head was just visible above them. His quill flew across a stack of papers on its own as he opened letter after letter, looking haggard and frustrated.   
  
He smiled as he stepped inside the office, ducking a barn owl as it swooped out of the room and tossed another letter onto the tottering pile. The Minister didn't even look up.   
  
"Hello, Minister," he said softly. Arthur glanced at him, his eyes dead, red and sleep-deprived.   
  
"Back from the iProphet/i with news?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Is it as bad as I fear?" Arthur asked, though he looked as if he didn't want to hear the facts of the massacre. His quill continued to move on its own.   
  
"Much worse sir."  
  
"How much worse?" Arthur asked, looking up at him, brows drawn up in concern.  
  
He pulled out his wand and pointed it straight at the Minister of Magic, who stared numbly at it, his bloodshot eyes blinking stupidly. "Much, much worse Minister."  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
He smiled and closed the door behind him, the click of the lock deafening. "My Master's bidding."  
  
He lifted the wand higher and opened his mouth, smiling inwardly. There were several cracks to his left, but he'd already opened his mouth. "iAvada K/i--"  
  
A blast from the side suddenly interrupted him and he was blown across the room, hitting the Minister's desk and scattering the scrolls and stacks of letters. Pains radiated up his side as he landed in a daze amid the pile of papers. His wand clattered from his fingers and he looked up into a pair of angry brown eyes.   
  
When he'd Apparated straight into his father's office, Ron had barely had time to register what he was seeing before he lifted his wand and blasted Blaire out of his boots. Hermione, Fred and George, who had Apparated beside him at the same time, drew back as the blast caught Blaire and threw him across the room.  
  
The wand clattered from the Auror's fingers and Ron bore down on him, teeth bared, eyes a blaze of fury.   
  
"Blaire, you son of a bitch traitor!" Ron snarled, pointing his wand straight at Blaire's handsome face. His long blonde hair was tangled around his face and his hazel eyes were wide with surprise and pain.   
  
"What's going on here?" his father demanded, getting over his shock as he stood, tired eyes wide with surprise and confusion. Authority crackled off of his stooped form.   
  
"Blaire's a spy for Voldemort," Hermione said, lifting her wand and levitating Blaire's dropped wand in her direction. She took it in her fist and pocketed it, her face a cool mask. Fred and George winced at her use of the name, but Ron merely kept his attention on the wizard sprawled across his father's desk.   
  
"How dare you! I've been a faithful employee of the Ministry for ten years! My service has been spotless! You know me! I am no spy!" Blaire said, his mouth falling open.   
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "We don't know you, Blaire. At least not this you."  
  
"What does that mean?" Blaire's eyes widened. Ron glanced at Hermione and saw her expression was still with calm fury.   
  
"It means the real Blaire would know that he's worked for the Ministry for twelve years and not ten. Who are you?" Hermione said, pointing her wand at him again. Blaire's attention was riveted on her. For a moment he looked like he was going to protest her statement and then slowly a smile stretched across his handsome face.   
  
"You know, I've long thought you were the cleverest witch in the Ministry. The only one worthy of study," Blaire said, getting slowly to his feet and wincing. His robes were scorched down one side from the blast Ron had hit him with. "I'm fascinated by you, Granger."  
  
Ron's insides went cold. He didn't like the look in Blaire's eyes. It was a look of fanatical devotion and obsession and though the eyes were different, he was sure he'd seen that same look cast at Hermione before.   
  
"Antonin Dolohov," he said with another snarl, moving to step between Hermione and the wizard staring hungrily at her. Blaire stared past Ron and smiled once more. "What did you do to Blaire?"  
  
"Nothing pleasant, I assure you," Dolohov said, not denying his true identity. A curse formed on Ron's lips, but he held back. He needed answers, not a gibbering mass of flesh that would result from his anger. "The Dark Lord was pleased that he dropped by, though he wishes someone more worthy would have been sent to greet us."  
  
His burning eyes were still on Hermione. Ron stepped fully between them and jabbed his wand forward, his hand steady, but his voice shaking.  
  
"Don't look at her."   
  
Dolohov/Blaire's eyes darted to Ron's face and he smiled once again. "What do you plan to do with that?"  
  
"Thought I might kill you with it," Ron snapped, feeling red-hot anger welling inside of him again. It threatened to burst out and flood through the part of his brain that was staying rational and cool, the part of his brain that Hermione had carefully tended to and trained. The threat did not seem to intimidate Dolohov as his attention was turned back on Hermione, who had moved past Ron's tall form and was now standing between Fred and George, who flanked her. Every one of the Weasley's knew of the numerous attacks on Hermione by Dolohov. Both Fred and George looked as if they wanted to push Hermione behind them to protect her from his leering, borrowed eyes.   
  
"Tell us what you know, Dolohov!" Arthur said sharply.   
  
"I will die for my Master rather than give you information," Dolohov spat calmly. "The Dark Lord has many spies and long after I am dust, there will still be loyal servants at his beck and call. Some in the Ministry itself."  
  
Ron's eyes narrowed. "Who?"  
  
Dolohov smiled again and his hand was suddenly in the front of his crimson robes. Ron's eyes widened and just as he was lifting his wand, Dolohov struck. A hidden wand appeared in his hand.  
  
"iSTUPEFY/i!" Dolohov shouted, red light speeding toward Ron.  
  
"iProtego!/i" Ron shouted and the spell bounced off of him. Everything seemed to happen in a rush. Hermione stepped forward, her wand pointed directly at Dolohov, and muttered an incantation. A grayish light went up around the room and Ron felt his hair rise and stand on end.   
  
Hermione started to say something else, but Dolohov threw another Stunning spell at her, but George moved to block the blow from hitting her. He was blasted off his feet, taking Hermione with him. Both of them landed in a sprawl against the doorway. Arthur hit Dolohov with a spell from the back just as Dolohov aimed his wand at Ron once more.   
  
The Death Eater's body arched up off the ground and he came back down on his knees, a hard sweat breaking out over Blaire's face. Then something happened. His features twisted; Blaire's long blonde hair turned dark brown and drew back into his skull and his eyes turned into dark black coals in a wasted face.   
  
Antonin Dolohov's true face was revealed in an instant as the Polyjuice Potion he'd consumed ran out. In the split instant that Ron and the others were caught up in watching his transformation, Dolohov saw his opportunity and took it.   
  
He Disapparated with a deafening crack, only air where he had been.   
  
"DAMMIT!" Ron screamed, staring forward as if to grasp Dolohov's neck in the place he had been. "He got away!"   
  
"No he didn't!" Hermione said shortly, rolling off of George's limp form. She had a bruise blooming across her left eye from where George had slammed into her.   
  
"What do you mean, Hermione?" Arthur asked, moving forward and crouching before his fallen son. Fred, whose face was white and sweaty, crouched beside him and he took his twin's hand.   
  
"I put an Anti-Disapparation Jinx on the Ministry. He can't Disapparate out of here," she said, wincing as Ron grabbed her arm. He was rattled and he felt like folding her up in his arms.   
  
"It didn't work, did it? He Disapparated. You saw him!" Fred said, looking up from George's Stunned form.   
  
"I didn't get a chance to finish the spell, but I made it so he can't leave the Ministry. He's trapped in here somewhere," Hermione said, pulling away from Ron. "It won't take long for him to find an exit and leave by foot though. We have to move quickly."  
  
"Right--I'll start on the--" Arthur started, but Hermione cut across him, giving him the wand she'd taken from Dolohov.  
  
"No, Mr. Weasley. He was sent here to assassinate you. You're to stay in your office," Hermione said firmly.  
  
"We need to notify the other Aurors and the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, Hermione," Ron said, gaze flicking to the doorway.  
  
"We don't have time. They're all at the iDaily Prophet/i. That's why Dolohov was here. He knew there would be no one to protect your dad," Hermione said, her face stony.   
  
"Why would he try to assassinate Dad?" Fred asked, still looking peaky.  
  
"Voldemort isn't just playing this time, Fred. He means to take over and he wants everything to be in complete chaos when he does. First Harry and then the Minister of Magic. Without a clear leader, the wizarding world will be thrown into turmoil and he'll attack when we're weakest," Hermione explained, opening the door and peering into the hallway. Several owls tossed letters into the room and winged off down the hallway. Hermione turned back to face the room. "Fred, when George comes 'round I want you both to guard the Minister. If anything moves, Stun it. Don't let anyone in here."  
  
Fred nodded gravely, his usually jovial expression completely gone. "Got it."  
  
"Ron, come on. I know where we need to start looking," Hermione said, sealing the door of the Minister's office so that no one could enter it.  
  
"Wouldn't be the Portkey Office, would it?" Ron ground out through clenched teeth. Hermione merely nodded and together they Apparated straight into the office. Ron barely had time to register a flurry of movement to his right and a scream.  
  
"iExpelliarmus!/i" Marietta Edgecombe shouted suddenly and Ron's wand was knocked from his fingers. To his left, he saw Hermione's head jerk back suddenly as a dark, tall figure was hauled her close, a wand to her throat. Ron started to go for her, but Dolohov drew back a step, hauling Hermione with him.  
  
"Tut-tut, Weasley," Dolohov said, his dark coal eyes on Ron's face. "One move and Granger's going to be a very messy stain on the front of my robes."   
  
"Let her go," Ron said, breathing hard. Hermione's face was tight with fear and anger. Her wand was at her feet. Ron wanted to curse at their stupidity. Dolohov and Edgecombe had been waiting for them.  
  
"Edgecombe, tie Weasley up," Dolohov commanded. Ron spared a glance at the curly-haired witch, who was pointing her wand directly at his face. The wand was shaking and her expression was one of sheer terror, but she held it up just the same. Ron noticed two other Ministry workers were on the floor; he couldn't tell if they were alive or dead and didn't have the time to spare to check either way.   
  
"So you ARE the spy," Ron said, hatred surging through him. "You're the one who delivered my sister to the Death Eaters. You helped them kill Harry."  
  
Marietta's face paled even further. She opened her mouth to say something, eyes twitching. "I..."  
  
"EDGECOMBE!" Dolohov bellowed. "Do as I say!"  
  
Ron ignored Dolohov and pressed on, seething. "How long were you working for You-Know-Who? What are you getting out of it?"  
  
"I...I had no choice! He's everywhere, Weasley! He--"  
  
"EDGECOMBE!" Dolohov shouted, jabbing the end of his wand hard into Hermione's throat so that she gave a shudder of pain. Ron met her eye and saw her gaze flicker downward. "Tie Weasley up! Or better yet, kill him. We'll take Granger with us."  
  
"K-kill him?" Marietta stammered, eyes rounding.  
  
"What's the matter, Marietta? You have no trouble letting someone else do the killing, but ask you to get your hands dirty and you balk. Can't stomach it?" Hermione spat, lifting her chin, Dolohov's wand pressing deeply into her throat. "I knew you were a traitor all along. Once a sneak, always a sneak."  
  
"SHUT UP GRANGER!" Marietta screamed, spittle flecking her lips. She looked livid with anger, pale and trembling. She turned back to Ron and started to lift her wand.   
  
Hermione caught Ron's gaze again and she flicked her gaze downward. He followed it and saw that Hermione's wand was now on the tip of her shoe. She'd managed to move it onto her foot without Dolohov noticing.   
  
Ron nodded imperceptively and just as Marietta opened her mouth, Hermione lifted her foot, tossing her wand off of her shoe. It tumbled end over end through the air and just as a jet of green light shot toward him, Ron dived for the wand; the curse missed him by inches. He landed on his stomach and turned, the wand in his fingertips.   
  
"No! Blast him!" Dolohov shouted. Hermione suddenly twisted in his arms, bringing her elbow back into his face. Ron didn't stop to watch. He leveled Hermione's wand at Marietta.   
  
"iSTUPEFY!/i" Ron shouted, red light erupting from the end of the wand and sailing toward Marietta. It hit her before she had a chance to move, knocking her backward over a desk, assorted Portkeys tumbling and rolling across the floor. Ron leapt to his feet, turning back toward Hermione and Dolohov.   
  
Dolohov had recovered from Hermione's initial attack. Being much larger than she, he'd managed to wrestle her to the ground and he now had her by the throat, one knee on her chest keeping her in place. Her face was red and she was gasping for air. His wand was once again pointed directly at Hermione. Ron lifted Hermione's wand, intending to blast him away from her, but Dolohov's voice stopped him.  
  
"Do it, Weasley. I'll kill her before you can take another step," Dolohov sneered, blood dripping from his split lip and speckling Hermione's steadily reddening face. She gagged for air. Ron's heart skipped a beat.   
  
"Let her go, Dolohov," Ron said in an amazingly calm voice. His stomach twisted into knots. "You let her go and I'll let you walk out of here alive."  
  
Dolohov's eyes narrowed. "What?"  
  
"Hermione for a clean getaway," Ron said, his eyes trained on Hermione's face and Dolohov, whose coal black eyes flickered from Hermione to Ron and then to Marietta's sprawled, Stunned form. Ron sneered at him. "Take Edgecombe with you if that's what you want."  
  
"How do I know you're not lying?" Dolohov said through his bloody lips.  
  
"You'll have to trust me. Just let her go and you're free," Ron said. Hermione's eyes pleaded with him, though Ron didn't know for what. Dolohov looked back down at Hermione and he suddenly hauled her to her feet. Hermione gasped for air and Dolohov loosened his grip on her throat slightly.   
  
Dolohov's face was as red as Hermione's. He looked down the end of the wand in Ron's hand, a mad light in his eyes.  
  
"Do we have a deal?" Ron growled impatiently. Hermione's eyes pleaded with him again. Dolohov grinned, a ghastly look in his eyes.   
  
"We do," Dolohov said, edging toward Marietta. His foot hit several fallen Portkeys and his smile got wider.   
  
"Fine. Then let her go," Ron said.  
  
"Not until I have what I want."  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
But Dolohov didn't answer him. Pushing the wand harder upward into Hermione's throat, he turned her head to the side and ran his tongue up her cheek. She shrank away from him, her eyes squeezed shut and a look of sheer disgust on her face. "Just wanted a taste."  
  
Ron swayed on his feet, anger raging through him, so complete his vision was turning red. "Let. Her. Go."  
  
Dolohov moved two more steps toward Marietta and glanced at Ron.   
  
"Make me a Portkey, Weasley," he demanded. "Then we'll trade."  
  
Ron's lip curled. He had no choice but to comply. "Little Hangleton the destination?"  
  
Dolohov stopped at that, eyes narrowing. He got over his surprise at once and nodded. "Very clever. Yes, Little Hangleton."   
  
Ron grabbed the nearest object on the desk to his right--a paperweight in the shape of a cauldron--and pointed his wand at it. "iPortus/i" The paperweight glowed blue and trembled in his hand, then lay still. He looked up to see Dolohov glaring at him. Hermione's eyes were warning him. He ignored her and lifted his chin, glaring back at Dolohov. "Hermione for the Portkey."  
  
"Count of three then," Dolohov said. Ron nodded and Dolohov pointed his wand at Ron. "One...two...three!"  
  
Dolohov kicked Hermione forward and snatched the paperweight from Ron's outstretched hand. Hermione stumbled forward and Ron grabbed her, hauling her backward. He looked up just in time to see Dolohov grab Marietta's limp hand in his own. Then they were gone, the Portkey whooshing them away to Little Hangleton.   
  
Immediately Hermione pulled out of his arms and kicked at the nearest desk. "Dammit, Ron! Why did you do that?"  
  
"What, save your bloody life? He was going to kill you, Hermione!" Ron said, reaching for her. She smacked his hand away and snatched her wand from his fingers.   
  
"You let him go! We had him and Marietta too and you just--"  
  
Ron caught her again and pulled her flush with his chest, grabbing her chin in his hand and forcing her to look at him. "Hermione, do you not get it? Dolohov wants you. He wants to kill you, he wants to hurt you, he iwants/i you in any way he can get you. He has ever since the Department of Mysteries. How many times is he going to have to test you, put you in St. Mungo's before you realize its not a game? I cannot let him have you. I cannot let him win, not when it comes to you."  
  
"Ron--" Hermione started, and then stopped, swallowing hard. "I know it's not a game, but I can fight my own fights. You cannot protect me from him!"  
  
"I bloody well can too!" Ron exclaimed in a frustrated voice. "You're mine, not his."  
  
"I am not yours Ronald--" Hermione said in an annoyed voice.   
  
"Yes you are, as far as he's concerned. You're the only thing I have in this world that's worth anything. Always have been."  
  
"Oh, Ron," Hermione said wearily, resting her head on his chest. He curled his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. "I know you were trying to help, but now they're both free and we're back to where we started."  
  
"No we're not. Now we know Fred and George were right about Little Hangleton," Ron said firmly. Hermione pulled away, her distraught expression replaced by her old manic, calculating calm. She smiled slowly.  
  
"You're right. Now we take the fight to them," she said. Ron nodded gravely.  
  
Whatever the outcome, he was ready to end this.  
  
Marietta was aware of voices, angry shouting and someone screaming. Memory flooded through her.   
  
She'd attacked Weasley and Granger after Antonin Dolohov had suddenly Apparated into the Portkey Office, taking out Basil and Hickory from the Apparation Test Center next door with Stunners. Then Weasley had hit her with a Stunning spell...  
  
Her head ached as she lifted it, rising up on her elbow. She was sprawled on an unfamiliar floor and sitting beside her was the cauldron paperweight that used to sit on her desk. She picked it up and stared at it for a moment, then looked up.  
  
Antonin Dolohov was cowering on the floor ten feet away, blood running down his lips. There were several masked people grouped around him, keeping him from running. And before him was...  
  
Marietta gasped and scrambled to her feet, stumbling backward until she was pressed against a bookshelf, her face pinched with fear. She watched as Lord Voldemort pointed his wand at Dolohov, his pale, spidery fingers reaching out and touching Dolohov's face. The Death Eater trembled; sweat breaking out over his skin in a fine sheen.  
  
"I'm sorry, Master. I'm sorry I failed you!"   
  
"Be silent, Dolohov," Lord Voldemort commanded. Marietta watched in horror as Dolohov trembled and looked up into his Master's slitted eyes. "You have failed me and you have been punished accordingly."  
  
"Master?"  
  
"You were able to return and for that I am pleased," Lord Voldemort said softly. At Dolohov's wondering gaze, he continued. "You know many things and the whole of my plans would have been revealed had you allowed yourself to be caught by anyone at the Ministry. We still work in stealth."  
  
But Dolohov trembled once again and bowed his head. "Master, I thank you, but Weasley knew of Little Hangleton. I did not tell him, Master! I swear!"  
  
Voldemort smiled a ghastly grimace and tilted Dolohov's face upward with his wand under his chin. "They know because I want them to know, Dolohov. It is all part of my plan."  
  
"But they'll come here--all of them!"   
  
"And we shall not be here to meet them, save a few. A happy few," Voldemort said in a high and oily, unctuous voice as he turned from Dolohov's subservient form. His slitted gaze fell on Marietta and she gave a cry, attempting to melt into the bookshelf at her back. "Miss Edgecombe. Bring her to me!"  
  
Marietta started and the cauldron paperweight fell from her nerveless fingers. It landed with a soft clink of metal on wood and rolled end over end to the other side of the room as a masked Death Eater took her by the arm and hauled her in front of Lord Voldemort. He pushed her down to her knees and she averted her eyes, feeling as if she were about to be sick.   
  
"Look up," Voldemort demanded. Marietta obeyed, looking upward and meeting the black slit of the Dark Lord's gaze. "Miss Edgecombe you have been an invaluable tool to me in the Ministry of Magic. I am displeased that you are no longer in place there, though after tonight your role as spy would have been rendered obsolete. You have served me well and I am willing to reward you."  
  
Marietta's heart leapt and she looked at him hopefully. "Yes, Master?"  
  
"Roll up your left sleeve, Edgecombe," the Dark Lord said. Marietta did so, confusion running through her. She swallowed hard and looked up at the pale wizard before her. "Do you swear to obey me for life unto death? To come when I call you and to die for me if I ask it?"  
  
Marietta was caught in his gaze, unable to look away. "Yes, Master."  
  
Voldemort nodded and lifted his wand. "Then I mark you, Marietta Edgecombe, as a Death Eater. iMostemortus/i."   
  
Something dark black snaked out of the end of Lord Voldemort's wand twisted in the air and attached like leech to Marietta's forearm. Excruciating pain exploded through her arm and she fought down a scream as the black serpentine thing seared into her flesh. Seconds later Lord Voldemort lifted his wand and the snake-like thing dissipated, leaving only a bright black tattoo on her forearm of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth.   
  
The Dark Mark.   
  
"Now bow to me," Lord Voldemort said. Marietta, shaking like mad, did as she was told, touching her lips to Voldemort's robes as she did so. After several long seconds, Lord Voldemort said, "That will do. Stand and join the ranks. There is much work to do."  
  
Marietta moved quickly, standing and backing away to the largest space in the crowd of masked Death Eaters. She, Voldemort and Dolohov, who was still crouching on the floor, were the only ones unmasked and their faces stood out starkly in the candlelit room.   
  
Lord Voldemort surveyed them and stopped on a gap in the circle. He tilted his head and a look of displeasure crossed his serpentine face. "Where is Malfoy? I crave news of the raid on the iDaily Prophet/i."  
  
"I'm here, Master," Draco Malfoy's usually calm, bored voice said breathlessly. He had just entered the large room and was now framed in the doorway, his silver-blonde hair falling into his eyes. His features were twisted into a livid expression.   
  
"What is it, Draco?" Lord Voldemort asked sharply upon seeing the expression on Malfoy's face. "The raid--?"  
  
"The raid went according to plan, Master, though there was one minor snag. But the news is out. The wizarding world knows about Potter," Malfoy said, looking significantly at Voldemort. Marietta watched as Voldemort nodded.   
  
"And the 'snag'?" he asked testily.   
  
"One of the reporters managed to escape, my Lord. She isn't important though. She knows nothing and she'll easily be killed when St. Mungo's is overrun," Draco said, his face still screwed up with anger.   
  
"I sense you have something else to tell me," Lord Voldemort said, his eyes flashing.   
  
"My...reward is missing," Draco said carefully, glancing at several of the Death Eaters, who seemed to understand what he was saying, though the rest looked confused. Draco kicked at the cauldron paperweight, which had rolled to his feet; it clattered against the wall as he said, "Bletchley's dead."   
  
"Indeed?" Voldemort said, arching one brow, though he did not look amused. "Then I suggest, Mr. Malfoy, that you find your reward before it becomes a problem."  
  
"Yes, Master," Draco ground out through his teeth. Voldemort glared at him for the tone in his voice.  
  
"I gave you this reward against my better judgment, Draco. I trusted you could keep it in line and you repay me and prove your worth by failing utterly at such a simple task. I'm sure if your father were still alive, he'd be as displeased as I," Voldemort said in a dangerous voice. He lifted his wand and without ceremony, said in a calm voice, "iCrucio!/i"  
  
Draco cried out and went down on his knees, his face a mask of pain. Marietta gasped and drew back, watching in horror as Draco suffered under the Cruciatus Curse. Nearly a minute went by before Lord Voldemort lowered his wand, leaving Draco in a shaking, sweaty pile on the floor. No one moved to help him as Lord Voldemort turned to his Death Eaters.   
  
His expression was one of perfect calm, though one could hear the excitement in his voice. "Tonight we fly to the Ministry of Magic. They know of our position in Little Hangleton now and it is possible that they'll mount an assault and come here. We will not be here, my Death Eaters. I'm tired of this dance. I'm ready, more than ready to assume my rightful place in the world. We shall take the fight to them and the Ministry will burn. The Dementors are already moving, as well as the giants. They will be in position to strike tonight and we will be there as well. The Ministry is already in shambles and they cannot stop us. We are legion."  
  
Several shouts went up around the assembled Death Eaters. Lord Voldemort held up his spidery white hands and silence fell again. "As I said, they know of our position now. They will send Aurors here and they mustn't know of tonight's attack. One squad will stay in the village and wait for them. Those of you who are staying know why. I want him delivered to the Ministry after the fight. Protect him with your life and do not let him fall into the hands of the Aurors."  
  
"Yes, Master," several Death Eaters murmured, bowing their heads.   
  
"Master, about him...do you think you should see him before you go?" Bellatrix Lestrange asked suddenly, stepping forward. Voldemort's attention swiveled to her. He looked at her coolly and then turned away. Bellatrix drew back, the line of her shoulders stiff.  
  
"I will see him before I kill him. I want him to know what he's helped create," Lord Voldemort said as he looked at them all and then smiled. "Let us go to war."  
  
The village was as still and quiet as it had been only hours before when Ginny had first run through its street. Now she felt stronger and her torn, stained clothing had been replaced by Muggle blue jeans and a man's white dress shirt two sizes too big. The old woman had insisted she take them, telling her they had been her son's before he'd died. Ginny had taken them gratefully, inwardly wondering what had happened to her son.   
  
She hoped it had nothing to do with the Death Eaters, though from the look in the old woman's rheumy eyes, it probably did. Ginny felt sick at the thought of it. Hatred surged through her as she clung to the crumbling walls of the closely huddled buildings in the village square. The sun was slowly sinking into the west, casting long bluish shadows down the street. She could see the spire of the church from her location and according to the old woman; the Riddle House was just past it on a hill overlooking the town.  
  
Movement out the corner of her eye made her stop and hunker as close to the buildings as possible. Her heart caught in her throat as she saw a black-clad masked figure slowly walking down the street, wand out. That was just wanted she'd hoped for, but her nerves still jangled at the sight of the Death Eater.  
  
"Now or never," she mumbled to herself and closed her eyes. She was weak, but she had enough energy to Apparate a short distance.   
  
She hoped.   
  
She concentrated and was rewarded with a swift crack and the split-second disorientation Apparating caused. Her eyes snapped open and the wand in her fingers was brought up so quickly that the Death Eater, hearing the crack of her Apparating, didn't have time to do anything but turn in place to face her.  
  
"iSTUPEFY!/i" she shouted, knocking the Death Eater backward in the street. He hit the cobbles and lay still, his wand clattering from his fingers.   
  
Amazing calm spread through her as she looked down at the sprawled Death Eater. She took a deep breath and then lifted her wand again. She needed to hide the Death Eater first and make sure he didn't get free. As she levitated him, wrapping ropes four times around his heavily muscled body, she stooped and put his wand in the back of her blue jeans, making sure it was well hidden.   
  
Her plan wouldn't work if the extra wand were discovered.   
  
Ginny stashed the Death Eater in an alley, put a Silencing Charm on him and covered him with rubbish and dustbins. That done, she took a deep breath and walked toward the Riddle House, towering impressively above the village on its hill.  
  
She knew it would not take them long to come for her. And after that...nothing would hurt anymore.  
  



	10. Chapter Nine

  
  
Hermione winced at the level of noise in Auror headquarters. Everyone was shouting at the same time and there didn't seem to be any bit of fresh air moving throughout the room. She felt stifled and hot and her stomach was turning over and over again. Beside her, Ron was doing his best to keep his temper under control. His face was red and his teeth were bared.   
  
She touched his arm and he looked at her, his expression softening slightly. She tried to tell him with her eyes to calm down. They would shortly be doing something, or at least she hoped so. She was getting tired of the endless debate herself.   
  
The room seemed to be split down the middle and no one seemed to know what to do.   
  
"They know we know they're in Little Hangleton!" Kingsley said. "If we go there, they'll be waiting in ambush!"  
  
"So we just let them terrorize that village? Let them walk about freely while we sit on our arses in our nice safe Ministry? Are we Aurors or not?" Hestia Jones said, for once not agreeing with Kingsley. Her elfin face was contorted with rage.   
  
"It's too dangerous Hestia!" Kingsley said firmly. "We have to regain control over the trouble HERE first."  
  
"More problems? Sir with all due respect, our main 'trouble' as you put it, is residing in Little Hangleton just waiting for his moment to strike! We know where he is, why not go get him?" Hestia protested.   
  
Kingsley opened his mouth to answer her just as the Minister of Magic entered the room, his face grave. Everyone watched him as he took a deep breath and then addressed them. "The Dementors are moving. Our operatives watching them were attacked."  
  
A collective gasp went around the room. Hermione was one of them.  
  
"They're mobilizing. You-Know-Who is planning to attack, isn't he?" Kingsley said in his rumbling voice.   
  
The Minister of Magic stared right into his eyes and nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so. Not only that, but the few giants alive and in the service of Lord Voldemort have left their mountains up north. They've been seen moving down the countryside by Muggle and wizard alike."  
  
Remus swore under his breath. "It's finally upon us."  
  
"I'm afraid so."   
  
"Where and when is the attack likely to happen?" Tonks asked, stepping backward, her shoulder colliding with Remus's. He looked down at her and encircled her shoulders with his arm. She didn't move away.   
  
"Tonight. Most likely here," the Minister said. He seemed to be attempting to hold in his emotions. Hermione, who knew him well, could see he was cracking beneath the too calm surface.   
  
"Attack the Ministry? Is he mad?" Dawlish exclaimed, but he hung his head a moment later. "'Course he is. And he knows no one can kill him!"  
  
Another outburst erupted throughout the room. People protested in loud voices, making Hermione's ears ring once more. She grit her teeth and took it as long as she could.  
  
"We aren't prepared--"  
  
"There's no way--"  
  
"Harry Potter was the only one--"  
  
"Harry Potter is dead!" Hermione burst out angrily. Every eye in the room snapped to her. "For too long the wizarding world has relied on him as their hope in defeating Voldemort. We are just as powerful as Voldemort's army. Death Eaters are only human. Dementors can be fought off. Giants can be felled. And Lord Voldemort may be something more than human, but he's still mortal. He can be defeated."  
  
Ron laid a hand on her arm, not to calm her, but to add his support. He looked at the rest of the Aurors and said, "We ARE prepared for this. We've been prepared for years. We have plans, strategies...if they're to attack us, we'll be ready."  
  
"Ron is right," Mr. Weasley said, stepping into the center of the room. "We've long been prepared for an attack on the Ministry itself. Let them come. We shall be ready."  
  
Kingsley stepped forward and faced them all. As the head of the Aurors, he was their captain in war. He met every eye and said in his clear, strong voice, "Let us prepare for war. The end is near. Let the end come for the Dark Lord, not us."  
  
He didn't elaborate and he didn't have to. The emotion in his voice was enough.   
  
Someone suddenly burst into the room. It was Percy Weasley; clutching a stitch in his side and breathing so hard he could barely stand.   
  
"Dad! We have a problem!"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"D-Diagon Alley! The public...they're...they've crowded in! Terrified!" he gasped, his horn-rimmed glasses slipping down his nose, red hair tangled across his sweaty forehead.   
  
"Merlin's beard..." Arthur Weasley said, stepping forward to clasp his third-born son's shoulders. "They're panicking."  
  
"I just got away. They're afraid they're going to be attacked in their homes. So they came there. Dad you have to do something about it. They're rioting!"  
  
"The fools! They're safer in their homes! Crowding into Diagon Alley is madness. A crowd like that...You-Know-Who could kill them all with one blow," Dawlish said, eyes rounding with realization.  
  
"Which is exactly what You-Know-Who wanted," the Minister said, burying his face in his hands. "He knew this would happen. He wants our attention divided."  
  
"Which means he could attack the Ministry or Diagon Alley. We have no way of knowing which," Kingsley said, clenching his fists.  
  
"Exactly. He could hit both. We don't have enough men to cover both..."  
  
A feeling of panic rose in the room and Hermione felt herself get swept up in it. This was a disaster. They were unprepared for this. Ron grabbed her hand, as if sensing her own fright and matched it with his own. Their gazes connected.   
  
Arthur Weasley stopped the third outburst by holding up his arms. He was shaking slightly, but his gaze was unwavering and his jaw was clenched.   
  
"Enough. We don't have time to bicker amongst ourselves. I want the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol dispatched to Diagon Alley. If the people want to panic and riot, we'll give them something to do. I want everyone capable of fighting--men of every age and women without children to be prepared to fight should there be an attack. Everyone else is to be taken to Hogwarts to wait. Vance, I'm putting you in charge of securing the women and children."  
  
"What about Hogwarts? Is it safe?" Emmeline Vance asked, nodding.  
  
"It has always been safe before. Voldemort will not attack it until he has the whole of the wizarding world under his thumb and hopefully it will not come to that. Dawlish I want you to go to Hogwarts and alert Headmistress McGonagall. The giants under the service of Rubeus Hagrid are needed here as well," Arthur said. He turned to Percy next. "Our international allies must be notified. Many have promised to move should we need them and I want those promises fulfilled."  
  
"Yes sir," Percy said, still gasping for air. He left the room immediately.  
  
"What about the Aurors?" Tonks asked.  
  
Mr. Weasley took a deep breath and looked around at Ron and Hermione. "We will all be staying here and preparing to move at a moment's notice. We need the Ministry fortified even further and the rest of the workers in other departments must be notified. I do not know where the attack will happen, but we'll be ready for them. To your posts."  
  
Everyone nodded, faces gray and waxen, and moved off to follow the Ministers orders. Hermione and Ron started to move off too, but Arthur Weasley grabbed Tonks and Lupin by the arm and led them over. Fred and George, who had been standing in the corner of the room, came over as well.   
  
"Sir?" Tonks asked. "What is it?"  
  
"I have a special job for the four of you," Arthur said, lowering his voice.   
  
"Six," Fred corrected, jabbing a finger at himself and George. The Minister looked them over and then nodded in agreement.  
  
"Yes?" Remus asked, bending to catch every word. The Minister's expression was taut with nerves, but his voice was calm.   
  
"My daughter is in Little Hangleton. I do not know if she is alive or dead, but I want her brought back to me," he said, meeting all their gazes. His three sons had to look away, emotion overcoming their features. "I fear Lord Voldemort will not completely abandon his stronghold in Little Hangleton. There will be Death Eaters there. I need them taken care of as well."  
  
"We know, sir," Hermione said, drawing herself up. Mr. Weasley nodded and looked at them all.   
  
"I want you all to be careful," he said finally, clasping each of his son's hands and then the other three's. "If it all goes wrong, take your mother and go to Charlie in Romania."  
  
"Dad--" Fred and George started, but Mr. Weasley drew himself up and sighed.   
  
"I have to see to everything. Be careful," he said and with that, he turned on his heel and walked away. The six of them watched him disappear and then turned to each other.   
  
"Well, what are we waiting for? We have our orders," Remus said, taking charge of his younger companions. Tonks smiled and pulled her wand from her pocket. The long black mane of hair she'd been wearing since the explosion at Grimmauld Place changed in an instant. Her hair was now bright blue and spiky.   
  
"Last one to Little Hangleton is a rotten dragon egg," she laughed tossing her neon head. Ron and Hermione exchanged another look and nodded.  
  
Time to move.  
  
Harry was half-awake and aware that someone was pacing the floor in front of him. He opened his weary eyes and stared at the blurred figure of Bellatrix Lestrange. She was shooting him dark glances and her heels clacked against the floor as she paced.  
  
iClack-clack/i. The sound drove into Harry's skull. He wished he could turn the sound off and sink back into the oblivion of sleep.   
  
But Bellatrix seemed to be doing her best to keep him from the release of sleep as she marched across the room. Finally, the sound started to be too much for him.   
  
"And why," Harry mused in his croaking, abused voice. "Are you pacing Bella?"  
  
She glared at him for the familiar way he used her name. He smiled, his dry lips twisting. He didn't know what she was so concerned about. Nothing brought two people closer than torture, unless it was death and he'd nearly experienced both.   
  
"He wouldn't come," she said suddenly, her voice tight.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"You-Know-Who," she said testily, though her eyes were worried. Harry lifted his head, ignoring the stretch and pull of his many wounds.   
  
"Aren't you a little too close to Voldemort to be calling him by such a childish term?" he mused again. Bellatrix's once beautiful face flinched, but she continued to pace.  
  
iClack-clack/i. Harry shuddered and slumped in the chair. Would he die with that sound in his ears?   
  
"He told me, Potter, that he did not want to see you," Bellatrix said, though the sound of her voice told him she didn't want to say this to him.   
  
"Did he?" he croaked.  
  
"He hasn't come in here once. He stays in his study, planning his battle and he won't down here to see his greatest enemy," she said in a distracted sort of voice.  
  
"Greatest enemy? Swell my head why don't you?" Harry said, laughing suddenly. The sound was gruesome in the darkness and he stopped immediately. "Tell me Bellatrix, are you having doubts about the bravery of your precious Dark Lord?"  
  
Bellatrix's attention snapped to Harry. Her heavy-lidded eyes were wide and her full lips were pressed together in a thin white line.   
  
"Never! My Master is brave!"  
  
"Then why is he afraid to come near me when I'm clearly in no condition to get up from this chair? He can't even come down and taunt me properly and make my scar burn so badly I think my head's going to split open," Harry said. "Rude, really."  
  
iClack-clack/i.  
  
"He doesn't think you matter, Potter. You're merely a false hope for all the Muggle-loving fools in the wizarding world. He's much more powerful than you will ever be!"  
  
"Perhaps," Harry said, blinking sleepily. "But I still don't see him here."  
  
Bellatrix continued to pace, but she didn't say anything. It seemed something was weighing heavily on her mind.   
  
iClack-clack/i.  
  
Finally, after several minutes of the sound of her heels hitting the concrete, she spoke. "After the battle you're to be taken to the Ministry. He wants you to see his work."  
  
"And then he'll kill me? Or will he have you do it?" Bellatrix didn't answer, but she stopped pacing. Grateful for the respite, Harry lifted his head and peered at her. She stood stiffly before him. "Don't you know Bella?"  
  
Bellatrix backed away slightly. Silence pervaded the small, dank room.   
  
"No," she said in a whisper. Harry nodded, but didn't respond.  
  
Ginny had just started up the hill the Riddle House rested upon when the doors flew open. She felt the compulsion to run as she saw the head of Draco Malfoy appear, fading sunlight glinting off his silver-blonde hair and dazzling her exhausted eyes.   
  
She stopped and stared up the hill at him. She didn't even lift the wand in her hands. She felt as if she couldn't move.  
  
Several Death Eaters followed behind Malfoy as he stepped down into the garden. His gaze was hot on hers and he was watching her in a calculating way.   
  
"Weasley..." he started, eyes narrowed. "You made this much easier than I thought you would."  
  
She didn't answer, merely stood there attempting to control her breathing. Her insides writhed with fear and loathing flowed through her. She felt like she was going to be sick again, but she had nothing to throw up.   
  
Malfoy lifted his wand and glanced at his fellow Death Eaters. They spread off down the hill toward her, but she paid them no mind. Let them blast her to bits. She didn't care any more. Just let them wait until she was inside where he was.   
  
She just stared at Malfoy, waiting for him to disarm her. He seemed to be contemplating her, not that she could blame him. Her appearance must have come as a shock to him. She fought the urge to smile.   
  
"Drop the wand, Weasley," Malfoy said, testing her. She almost did, but figured he might get even more suspicious if she did it immediately. The wand she'd hidden in the back of her jeans burned heavily and she prayed it wouldn't be found. "Do it or I'll curse you."  
  
"I'm already cursed, Malfoy," Ginny said truthfully, her voice dull with sorrow. "I have nothing left to lose."  
  
Malfoy's expression turned to one of disgust. His lip curled as he looked at her. "Is this it? Is this your last plea?"   
  
"I'm not pleading with you, Malfoy. I did that enough of that back in that room," she said, bile rising. She tried to ward off the memories that crowded her mind, but they wouldn't be banished. She swayed on her feet, chest spasming. "Take me to him."  
  
Malfoy looked slightly alarmed. "To whom?"  
  
"Tom Riddle," she said, her voice barely a whisper, though it carried to his ears. He drew closer, his wand still raised. "Take me to Tom Riddle, Draco. I need to speak to him."  
  
Malfoy laughed derisively. "You? Do you think you're worthy enough to talk to the Dark Lord? You are nothing to him!"  
  
"On the contrary, I think I'm worth a great deal to him. It was I, after all, who delivered Harry Potter to him. I would like to speak to him. Will you not take me to him?" she said calmly, fighting the tears that threatened her eyes at saying Harry's name. She couldn't think of him now. If she did, she wouldn't be able to do anything.   
  
Malfoy looked at her again in that calculating way. He pursed his lips and looked at her for several long moments. Then he looked behind her, where Little Hangleton spread out like a postcard. "Are you alone?"  
  
"Yes," she answered. She was more alone than she'd ever been in her life.   
  
He looked at her again and then gestured to one of the Death Eaters closest to her.   
  
"iExpelliarmus!/i" the Death Eater shouted. Ginny winced as the wand was blown from her hand. It landed in the grass several feet away and the Death Eater snatched it up. Ginny bowed her head as if in defeat, the wand hidden in her clothing once again feeling heavy and conspicuous.   
  
"Will you take me to him? Then you can do whatever you want to me," Ginny said, not fighting the sorrow in her voice. Let them think she was broken. It didn't matter any more.  
  
Malfoy approached her, his wand leveled directly at her face. He looked sweaty and nervous close up, like he'd just gone through a great ordeal. Whatever had made him look like that, Ginny hoped he'd suffered.   
  
His eyes burned as he looked at her. "What have you got planned, Weasley?"  
  
"Nothing. I just want to talk to the thing that destroyed everything I ever had," Ginny said. "Then I want to die."  
  
"I'm afraid that's not going to happen. You'll be alive for a very long time and I'll make sure of that," Malfoy said, allowing a smile to cross his pointed features. She shuddered despite herself, but didn't move away.   
  
"We'll see," she said. "Take me to him."  
  
The smile stayed however. "I'm afraid you've missed him, Ginny. He's just leaving now."  
  
Ginny's stomach jolted. "What?"  
  
Malfoy caught hold of her, hauling her against him, one hand wrapping around her torso. His wand went to her throat and he whipped her around to face the Riddle House.   
  
Her eyes widened. Death Eaters were pouring from the house and rising into the air on broomsticks. They formed a solid mass of black, like a storm cloud or a murder of crows. And there, among them was...  
  
"The Dark Lord is riding to battle, Weasley. It's a momentous occasion. You should count yourself lucky that you were here to see this historic event," Malfoy said into her ear, making shivers of disgust run down her sides. She felt weak suddenly.   
  
She hadn't planned on this. He was supposed to be in the house. All of them were. It was too late now.   
  
She watched in horror as Lord Voldemort rode out ahead of his Death Eaters. They flanked around him, forming a guard. And then, on an unspoken signal, the murder of Death Eaters took off, flying over them and taking off southward. She knew their destination was London.   
  
A single tear fell down her cheek. She'd failed.   
  
"Patrol the village! We don't need any surprises tonight!" Malfoy called to four of the Death Eaters. Ginny watched as they made their way down the hill toward the village. Malfoy's breath was hot on her neck suddenly. Something in his voice made her body tremble with fear. "There's something I want you to see, Weasley. Something I'm sure you'll like."  
  
Fear took hold of her, but she was too numb to fight him as he drew her toward the Riddle House. Whatever was inside, she was sure she didn't want to see it. But she knew she would have to.  
  
"There they go," Tonks breathed beside Ron. She sounded resentful as she watched the black cloud of Death Eaters choking the sky fly past. They were heading southward, no doubt flying off for the battle in London. Ron itched to leap up from their hidden position and blast every one of them from the sky.   
  
But that wasn't the plan and it would very likely get each and every one of them killed.   
  
He glanced to his left and saw Hermione fiddling with a row of vials on the pack she'd strapped to her hip once more. She'd gone to the Ministry's potions store and collected several vials of potions and packed them up before they'd left. He didn't know what some of them were, but he recognized many of them as Shrinking and Swelling potions and one he was sure was Veritiserum. She was packing as much arsenal as was possible.   
  
He smiled, despite the nerves that were plaguing him. He always got this way before a battle. He knew once they started he'd be calm and his nerves would result in powerful bursts of energy, but for now, they were playing hell on him. He couldn't stop thinking about what was going to happen once Voldemort reached the Ministry of Magic. Would there be enough people to hold them off? And what about the giants and the Dementors?  
  
There were too many things that could go wrong. He wished he was there fighting with them, but he knew his father needed to know about Ginny. If they didn't all die, that was.  
  
Hermione caught his eye as she finished adjusting her pack. He knew this probably wasn't the best time, but that didn't stop him from grabbing her and pulling her against his chest. She tilted her mouth upward and he kissed her hard, attempting to convey everything he was feeling in the touch of his lips on hers. He didn't care if the others were watching or not.  
  
She pulled away all too quickly, but he could see the look of fear in her eyes. He knew she was worried for him, just as he was for her.  
  
"I've already lost Harry and Ginny. Don't make me lose you too," she whispered so softly he knew the others couldn't hear it.   
  
"I love you," he said, brushing back her hair.   
  
"I love you too," she said and there was something else in her gaze. A warning perhaps.   
  
He knew what the warning was for. If she found him, she was going to kill Antonin Dolohov and she didn't want him to stop her or help. This was her fight. He nodded, though they both knew he would not keep his unspoken promise. He hated Dolohov more than she did and he wasn't about to let her out of his sights.  
  
"Well, now that that little scene is over with, are we ready?" Fred asked, leaning on George's shoulder. Both twins were still looking subdued, though there was a familiar glint of excitement and mischief shining in their eyes. Ron was glad to see it there; he liked them much better that way.   
  
"Remember you two, any sign of Ginny and you're both to grab her and get the hell out of the village. Go to Hogwarts. You're not Aurors and you're not trained to take down Death Eaters," Tonks said to Fred and George. She was the senior Auror and they were all looking at her for orders. Remus, not being an Auror himself, gladly stepped aside and awaited his orders as well.   
  
"Right, but I think we have a few surprises for them. Things I'm sure they're not ready for," George said. He patted his pockets and Ron noticed for the first time that they were bulging outward.   
  
"Do I even want to know?" Lupin asked, arching an eyebrow.   
  
"And take the fun out of seeing it first hand? Are you mad?" Fred laughed nastily. Ron had a feeling whatever was in their pockets it wasn't anything the twins were selling in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. He knew they'd made many dangerous items that weren't suitable for selling and had kept them carefully stockpiled... Whatever they were, he just hoped they worked.   
  
"If I get hit with anything /ifunny/i, you're both dead," Hermione said, pursing her lips. Fred and George grinned at her and suddenly both enclosed her in a double bear hug, squeezing her between them so that she squeaked.   
  
"You wouldn't kill us Hermy!" Fred said with a laugh, kissing her on the cheek.   
  
"Yeah, you know you love us!" George said, ruffling her bushy hair. She pushed them away, looking very disgruntled and red in the face. Still, the corners of her mouth drew upward.   
  
"Damned Weasley's..." she muttered, adjusting her pack and looking embarrassed.   
  
"And to think, you'll probably be one of us in a few years if Ron has his way..." George said. Ron felt his ears go red as Hermione looked up at him, arching an eyebrow.   
  
Thankfully, Lupin rescued him by stepping forward. The pinched look on his face had relaxed some when the twins had been working out their nerves by teasing Hermione, but it came back swiftly. Ron was once again reminded of where they were and why. His nerves jangled.  
  
"Its time," Lupin said, glancing at Tonks. She met his gaze and nodded her blue head.   
  
Everyone exchanged glances and then lifted their wands. The black cloud of Death Eaters had long since vanished on the horizon, leaving the village gilded in red-gold as the last rays of the sun sunk below the edge of the hills, leaving everything purple and soft. The village of Little Hangleton was quiet as a tomb.   
  
They had taken up stations at the eastern most edge of the village in a thicket of trees. From their vantage point they could just make out the roof of the Riddle House with its missing shingles and crumbling chimney. They didn't know how many Death Eaters were left in the village though.   
  
They would have to be very careful.   
  
"Our hag said that they patrol after dark. Do you think they'll still do it tonight?" George whispered, his face serious once more.   
  
"I'm not sure. You-Know-Who knows we know that they're here though. I imagine he has them watching for us," Remus said, looking down into the rapidly darkening village.   
  
"Then let's not make them wait then," Tonks said. "Ready?"  
  
Everyone nodded. They started down into the village, moving quickly but silently. The first cobbled street they came to was empty and the Muggle streetlights flickered on and off, casting orange shadows everywhere. Ron felt as jumpy as a cat as they clung to the shadows, moving swiftly toward the Riddle House.  
  
They reached the village square after several minutes of walking. Just as Ron was rounding the corner, he stopped and backed up, pushing Tonks behind him. The others moved too, crowding close.   
  
Around the corner he had spotted four Death Eaters standing in the middle of the street. Ron peered back around the edge of the building and watched in horror as the Death Eaters pushed something dark to the ground.   
  
It was a man, clearly Muggle by his clothing. He was shouting, screaming for mercy. A laugh went up around the Death Eaters; the sound turned Ron's insides cold. From the short distance, he could hear everything they said plainly and each word made his rage grow.  
  
"Beg for your life, Muggle!" one said, spitting on the man. He cried out once more and tried to move away.  
  
"You are at the mercy of Lord Voldemort now! He cares not for your cries! Tonight he is taking over and tomorrow a new day will dawn and the entire world will know what is to fear him!"  
  
"And Muggle filth such as yourself will wish that they had died in the great battle! Your kind will suffer!" another Death Eater said, kicking the Muggle man in the ribs. The man writhed on the cobbles and cried out.   
  
Ron had had enough watching the horrible display and so had the others. Together they spilled out into the street, forming a solid wall before the four Death Eaters.   
  
"iSTUPEFY!/i" Hermione shouted to his left as he did the same. He missed, but her Stunner slammed into one of the Death Eaters, knocking him backward on the cobbles. The Muggle man saw them and jumped up. They let him go and he ran off down the street.  
  
The other Death Eaters lifted their wands, but Fred and George had already pulled several objects from their pockets and thrown them. George missed and the parcel he threw burst open on the stones. There was a sizzle as whatever was inside of it burned up the stones, black smoke billowing into the air. Fred's parcel hit and the Death Eater unfortunate enough to be in his way screamed as he was blasted off his feet.   
  
Whatever Fred had thrown, it wasn't pleasant. Plants started sprouting all over the Death Eater's body and quickly wrapped around his body. His open, screaming mouth was soon choked with plants a toxic green color. He sputtered and clutched at his throat, fingers so covered in the plants they resembled a particularly hideous carpet.   
  
Ron turned his attention off of the struggling, choking Death Eater and sent another Stunner sizzling across the street at the two remaining Death Eaters. Lupin had already hit one with a spell and the Death Eater's robes were covered in a blackish fire. He was running around in frantic circles attempting to beat it out. Ron's Stunner hit him in the base of his spine and he crumpled to the ground.   
  
The fire continued to burn and none of them bothered to put him out, though the air was filled with the horrible stench of sizzling flesh. The remaining Death Eater was left to Tonks, who had actually chased him down. He'd hit her with a spell, but she didn't seem fazed by it. She jumped on his back, bringing them both to the ground.   
  
Lupin cried out as the Death Eater twisted around and pushed Tonks to the ground. Lupin leapt forward, snatching a vial off of Hermione's belt pack without looking. The vial sailed through the air and smashed on the Death Eater's back.   
  
Immediately he twisted and writhed over Tonks, screaming as the potion in the vial went to work on him. Ron watched in horror as the Death Eater started shrinking. He was nearly the size of a rat when Remus kicked him off of Tonks and then, without ceremony, stepped on him. There was the crunch of bone and a small squeak and then it was done.   
  
Ron winced, but he wouldn't allow himself to care. This was war and people died in wars. He'd feel sick later.  
  
As Lupin helped Tonks up, he glanced back at the plant-covered Death Eater strangling on the ground. Fred and George were standing over him, watching him breathe his last breath silently. The Death Eater shuddered and then lay still. Ron approached them and looked down at their handiwork.   
  
"What the hell was that?" he asked with no small amount of fear and awe in his voice.  
  
"We call it the Neville effect," said Fred, looking up at his little brother.   
  
"It was a joke item that went wrong. Glad it did," George said dispassionately.  
  
Ron nodded. "Me too."  
  
He turned back to face Lupin and saw his old professor and Tonks were now crouched over the Death Eater Hermione had stunned. He, Hermione, Fred and George approached them as they revived the fallen Death Eater.   
  
He sucked in a lungful of air as Lupin reached down and ripped his mask off. Ron recognized him as Theodore Nott, his old year mate at Hogwarts.   
  
"Weasley! Granger!" he said, his eyes rounding with surprise. They narrowed moments later and he glared at them. "Kill me, then. I'm ready to die for my Master."  
  
"Always so eager to die, these guys, and when you go to do it, they resist. Make up your damned minds," Tonks said with a snort. Nott glared at her, his eyes on the wand in her fingers. He looked at them all and saw their wands were pointed at him. There was nothing he could do and nowhere to go.   
  
"Where is Ginny Weasley?" Lupin asked, his voice steady.   
  
Nott laughed. "I'm afraid I don't know," he said.  
  
"I think you do," Hermione said, reaching for her pack. He noted the clear liquid in the vial she withdrew and knew it was Veritaserum. "Let's see just how much you know, Nott."  
  
"I'm not drinking that shit," Nott spat, but Ron jabbed his wand at him, his eyes flashing.  
  
"I think you are," he said, making it sound like the threat it was. Nott curled his lip over his teeth and glared at him. He knew he had no choice, but that didn't mean he'd cooperate. "Fred, George! Get his head!"  
  
Fred and George complied, grabbing Nott by the head and wrenching his mouth open. Hermione quickly poured three drops of the Veritiserum into his mouth and the twins closed it up. Immediately Nott's expression changed. The anger burning in his eyes changed to the dull expression of a simpleton. He blinked slowly and looked at them all, his mouth slack.  
  
"Is it working?" Lupin asked. Hermione nodded and leant forward.   
  
"Is Ginny Weasley still alive?" she asked. Nott's slack mouth closed and then opened again.  
  
"Yes," he said in a dull voice. Ron felt a soar of hope and he heard George let out an exhale of relief.  
  
"Where is she?" Hermione asked, her voice shaking.   
  
"The Riddle House," Nott said at once.   
  
"How many Death Eaters are at the Riddle House right now?" Hermione pressed.   
  
"Seven."  
  
"Who are they?"  
  
"Draco Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov, Bellatrix Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, Marietta Edgecombe, Blaise Zabini, and Armando Dervish," Nott answered slowly.   
  
"Why are they still here?"  
  
"We are to deliver a special package to the Dark Lord when he wins the battle and protect it until then. We are to kill it if the battle does not go my Master's way," he explained.  
  
The six of them exchanged glances once more. Hermione turned back to Nott and asked, "What is the package?"   
  
Nott looked them straight in the eyes and the next words from his mouth made Ron's insides jolt with disbelief.   
  
"Harry Potter."  
  



	11. Chapter Ten

  
  
Ginny stumbled as Malfoy pulled her through the Riddle House. He grabbed her by the waist and hauled her back against him. She shuddered as his mouth lingered near her ear.  
  
"Careful now, Weasley," he said in a harsh whisper. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself. That's my job."  
  
Ginny didn't respond. She was more concerned with the wand still in the back of her jeans, which she hoped he could not feel. She was pressed so hard against him; she thought he would at any second. And if his hands decided to roam, he'd certainly find it.   
  
He didn't though. He seemed to have something else in mind as he pushed her before him, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. He kept pushing her between the shoulder blades with it and pain juddered down her spine with each jab.   
  
"Stop poking me with that damned thing before I turn around and shove it up your nose," she growled after a particularly hard jab. Malfoy laughed in a pleased sort of way.  
  
"There's that old Weasley spirit I admire. I was worried for a moment. Didn't want to break you so soon, not when I've just started playing with you..." he said.  
  
"Where are you taking me?" she asked as he pushed her with his wand toward a pair of double doors. The woodwork was at least a century old, if not older. The house would be very impressive if not for the air of evil which clung to every nail and knob in the place. She didn't want to be in here, not at all.   
  
"Patience is a virtue. Though I've already taken most of your virtues..." he mused. Ginny felt like spitting at him. Instead she walked through the double doors, squinting in the candlelight that flooded the room.  
  
There were four Death Eaters without masks sitting around the plush room. She saw wands in their hands and fear gripped her again. Their attention turned to her and smiles broke out over their pale faces. Ginny drew back a step, but Malfoy pushed her forward again. Stumbling, Ginny looked up, her eyes rounded in surprise as her gaze landed on Marietta Edgecombe, who was backed into a corner clutching at her left forearm. She was trembling and looking terrified.   
  
Their gazes met and surprise sprang into Marietta's eyes. Surprise and horror.  
  
"You..." Ginny started, disbelief making her eyes water. "You're the one. You betrayed me..."  
  
Marietta, upon hearing the accusation in Ginny's voice, shrank back against the wall and shook her head. She was looking horrified again and her face was as pale as new milk. "No...no I..."  
  
The Death Eaters laughed and Blaise Zabini drew Marietta close. "It all worked perfectly, Weasley. Marietta delivered you to us and you delivered Potter. Heard you sang like a bird."  
  
Tears welled in Ginny's eyes and spilled down her cheeks in scorching rivers. She loathed having these people see her cry, but she could not stop them from coming.   
  
"I didn't mean to...I just wanted it to stop," she said softly. Malfoy breathed down her neck once more and she could sense his delight at seeing her unravel before them.   
  
"Don't cry princess. The dragon has a surprise for you," he said. He started to lead her toward a door on the opposite end of the posh study, but a tall, dark haired man several decades older than anyone else in the room stepped in front of the door.   
  
"What are you doing Malfoy?" he demanded in a gravelly voice. Something about him was familiar, though Ginny couldn't place him until Malfoy said his name. "It isn't time to deliver the package yet."  
  
"I'm bringing our package a little surprise, Rabastan," Malfoy said to Rabastan Lestrange. "Surely it won't hurt to throw salt in the wound, will it?"  
  
Rabastan scowled. "Master didn't say--"  
  
"Who is in charge here?" Malfoy said haughtily.   
  
"Not you," Rabastan countered, bearing down on Malfoy. "Since your father was killed, you've been right full of yourself you little ferret. You may be the Dark Lord's pet follower right now, but I think your time is almost up--he's removed the Fidelus Charm on the Death Eaters, including us. Your little accident with the girl has not pleased him and now we're paying the consequences."  
  
"Afraid of the Aurors, Rabastan?" Malfoy snapped.   
  
"I spent twelve years in Azkaban little boy. I know more about fear than you ever will," Rabastan answered in a low voice. "Which is why the Dark Lord left me in command."  
  
Malfoy sneered at Rabastan and grabbed Ginny by the throat, hauling her back against him. "Perhaps, but he knows I'm far more valuable than one old Death Eater. I've done more for him in his service than you ever have in all your long years."  
  
Malfoy's words hit a raw nerve and Rabastan growled. He seemed to consider hitting Malfoy or pulling out his wand and cursing him, but he merely moved out of the way of the door a moment later. He looked as if he just wanted Malfoy away from him as quickly as possible.  
  
"On your head be it. And if your Aunt isn't pleased by your arrival, don't say I didn't warn you," Rabastan said, clearly washing his hands of the matter.   
  
"Why?"  
  
"The Dark Lord doesn't want anyone but her near the package and she's taking her work seriously," he explained. "You know how she gets."  
  
Malfoy smiled fondly, though Ginny didn't like the look on his face. It was bloodthirsty and longing. "Then I'm sure she won't mind seeing my new pet. She'll be pleased."  
  
Rabastan merely shook his head and sat down. Malfoy turned back to Ginny, so close she could see the scabbed over scratches still on his face from where he'd attacked her and she had retaliated. She stared hard at the scabs and wished she could do it again.   
  
Malfoy tugged her forward and opened the doorway with his wand. Ginny looked down a dark staircase and felt fear closing over her. What did Draco want her to see?   
  
It didn't matter though. She'd already made up her mind that whatever was down there, she was going to destroy. She couldn't do a thing about Voldemort, but there were enough Death Eaters in the house to make it seem worthwhile. And from what little she'd picked up from Rabastan, the package they were to deliver was very important to Voldemort.   
  
If it was important to him, she had to destroy it.   
  
Draco pushed her toward the stairs and she brought one hand back to grope for the wand tucked inside her jeans. She felt it and snatched her hand away quickly. Once they got to the bottom of the stairs she'd grab it and pull it out. She prayed she'd be able to blow the house up before he could disarm her.   
  
They hit the last step and just as she was reaching for the wand, she was slammed against the wall, a hand around her throat. Nails dug into her skin as she came face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange.   
  
"Draco? What are you doing? What is this?" she hissed, inches from Ginny's face.  
  
"Brought our package a little present," Malfoy said in a soft voice. He glanced toward the middle of the darkened basement and smiled nastily. Bellatrix's face hovered in front of Ginny's. Her full lips were twisted up over her straight teeth. She looked distressed. "Don't you want him to suffer, Auntie?"  
  
Bellatrix looked back at Ginny and she seemed to recognize her after several moments. She drew back slightly and loosened her grip on Ginny's neck. Ginny gasped for air, but she couldn't move, let alone reach for her hidden wand.   
  
A sly look came over Bellatrix's wasted face and she smiled. It reminded Ginny of Malfoy's bloodthirsty grin and she wanted nothing more to shrink away form it. "Yes...yes. I'm going to enjoy this I think. Draco..."  
  
Malfoy obeyed her unspoken command and grabbed Ginny by the arm, wrenching her around to face the darkness. She could just make out the outline of something sitting in the middle of the floor. Something slumped over.   
  
Bellatrix walked foward and crouched before the slumped shadow. Ginny's blood ran cold as she heard her say, "Wake up. Wake up and meet your betrayer."  
  
Malfoy shoved Ginny forward and she stumbled and fell to the ground, landing on all fours before the slumped figure. Malfoy jumped on her from behind and wrenched her head up by the roots of her hair. Light flared to life as Ginny looked up and she was momentarily blinded by it. She blinked red sparks from her vision and slowly the light shrouded figure came into focus.  
  
A scream of horror came tearing out of her throat as she saw the figure tied to the chair before her.   
  
It couldn't be...  
  
He lifted his head and their gazes met. Ginny moaned, feeling like she was suffocating.   
  
"Harry..."   
  
Hermione drew back from Nott, her mouth falling open. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. Her blood rushed in her ears and she found herself asking, "Harry Potter? Is...is Harry Potter alive?"  
  
She didn't dare hope that it was true. A moment later her hope soared again as Nott, still suffering under the effects of the Veritaserum, nodded. His eyes flicked between the six of them.  
  
"Yes," he said simply.   
  
"Merlin's beard," Remus said breathlessly, looking up at them all. He had peculiar look on his face. It was a look of hope mingled with horror. "Why would they keep him alive all this time? Surely Voldemort..."  
  
"Master wants him to suffer as much as possible," Nott answered Remus's question and they all looked back down at him. Hermione took a sharp breath as Tonks made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat.  
  
"Of course," she said. "You-Know-Who is going to take over first. He knows that's the one thing that'll hurt Harry the most."  
  
"What have they done to Harry? Where are they keeping him?"  
  
"Bellatrix Lestrange has been torturing him since his capture. He is in the basement of the Riddle House," Nott answered.  
  
Hermione couldn't stop the cry of horror that spilled from her throat at hearing Nott's words. She wasn't the only one either. Ron grabbed her hand and they looked at one another. Silently, Ron gave her strength.   
  
"They're torturing him. God Ron...we have to save him before they leave to take him to Voldemort," Hermione said, clutching at Ron's hand. His brown eyes were huge and he looked like he was going to be sick. He nodded and swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.   
  
"We will, Hermione," he said, his expression turning hard. He turned back to Theodore Nott. "Is there any way to get into the house without being seen?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Hope flared again. Hermione resisted the urge to grab Nott by the shoulders and shake the answer out of him. "HOW? Where?"  
  
"The church. There is a tunnel that leads to the house. The Dark Lord created it as an escape route many months ago," Nott said.  
  
"Where does it come out at?" Tonks pressed.  
  
"The old caretaker's cottage," he answered.   
  
"Is there anyone guarding either entrance?" Lupin asked, glancing down the empty, darkened street.   
  
"No," Nott said.   
  
"Where is the entrance located in the church?"  
  
"In the floor behind the pulpit. Tap the stones," he answered obediently.  
  
Everyone looked at each other and nodded. It was the only plan they had and it would have to do. "What do we do with him?" Ron asked, gesturing to Nott, who was still staring blankly into space.   
  
Tonks stood and seemed to be contemplating him. "Tie him up and put him somewhere, I guess. We need to hide the rest of these sots. Put him with them and come back after..." she said, gesturing toward the three dead Death Eaters on the ground.   
  
It didn't take long to stash the bodies in an alley to the side. Nott, still bemused by the truth serum Hermione had given him, sat there as they tied him up and bound his mouth. They hoped he wouldn't be able to get free and warn the others.   
  
Silently they took off toward the only church in the town, which was just down the road from the Riddle House on its hill. The road was tree lined and they took advantage of the darkness and thick branches as they made their way toward the church. There were no lights on in the Riddle House, but that could mean nothing.   
  
"He's probably spelled the windows so no one knows they're there," Hermione whispered as they reached the ege of the church's graveyard. They weaved their way toward the church, stopping midway to crouch before a yew tree standing proudly amid the tombstones, which pushed up through the overgrown grass like broken, gray teeth.   
  
"We'll go first. The rest of you follow us," Tonks said, gesturing to Lupin to follow her. Crouching low, they both ran toward the church. Hermione heard her mutter a spell as they reached the church's double doors. They flew open on their rusty hinges with a crack and Lupin gestured Fred and George forward.  
  
The twins ran quickly toward the open doors and as soon as they reached them, Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her foward with him, his long legs devouring the short distance with ease. He pushed her inside and he and Lupin closed the doors behind them with a soft click.   
  
Tonks was already crouched behind the pulpit and was tapping the stones with the tip of her wand. There was a grating sound as the stones clicked together, then folded back to reveal a long, dark hole in the ground. Tonks stood at the edge of the hole and peered into it.   
  
"Its now or never," she said, looking up at them. Her gaze met Remus's and he nodded. He went first, dropping down into the tunnel with a muffled thump of shoes on packed earth. His wand flared to life a moment later and light flooded the hole. "How's it look Remus?"  
  
"Its okay. It looks pretty long though. We're going to have to hurry," he said, looking up at them. He moved aside as Tonks dropped in after him. Then Hermione went, her knee nearly buckling as she landed on the hard packed floor of the tunnel. Dust itched the air and she could see the sides of the tunnel had been carved from rock up to a point and the rest was more packed earth; the roof was made up of by roots and more rock. The air was chilled as well and she knew they were several feet down.   
  
Ron, Fred and finally George dropped into the hole as well. Remus and Tonks took the lead, Remus's wand the only light in the darkness. Hermione dropped back to walk beside Ron. He glanced at her, but didn't speak.  
  
It seemed they were both too overwhelmed with emotion to fully express what they were feeling. Hermione's heart was beating fast and she kept swallowing, attempting to clear throat of the lump that had formed there. She didn't know what to think. She had hope raging through her, but she was scared as well. What if they were too late?  
  
What if...  
  
But she couldn't allow herself to think of Harry or Ginny at the moment. She knew there was going to be another fight once they entered the Riddle House and she needed to focus on it. Ron looked similarly preoccupied and Hermione knew him well enough to know he was a ball nerves and that his nerves would give him an edge in the fight.   
  
"We're there," Tonks said softly so that they barely caught it. She and Remus had stopped and Hermione peered around George's shoulder at the end of the tunnel.   
  
It was a stone portal with steps leading upward. There was a wooden trapdoor in the ceiling. Hermione realized it must lead up into the caretaker's cottage Nott had mentioned.   
  
Tonks turned around and faced them, her face grave in the dim light of Remus's wand. "There are seven Death Eaters in the house. We're outnumbered, but that doesn't mean we can't win. Fred, George...you're not trained for this but--"  
  
"We're not babies either Nymphadora," Fred snapped, knowing the use of her name would annoy her.  
  
"I know," she said, ignoring the pointed barb. "I know you'll do your best. But remember--the minute you see Ginny...and...and Harry, I want you to take them and Portkey out of here. Promise me you will?"  
  
George looked mutinous, but he nodded. "We will."  
  
Tonks nodded and then Remus climbed the steps and threw open the trapdoor. There was no going back now.  
  
Harry's green eyes were disbelieving as they peered at her, squinting, the milch-cow print of black and purple bruises on his face standing out against his pale skin. He was covered in blood and the smell of it was thick in the air. He swayed in his chair, his mouth open slightly.   
  
"Harry?" Ginny choked out, Malfoy's breath in her ear again. He was laughing as he wrenched her head upward. "Harry!"  
  
"Say hello, Potter," Malfoy said against the shell of her ear. "Its your Weasel!"  
  
Harry shook his head, as if to clear the image before his eyes away. "No...no you're not real..."  
  
Bellatrix Lestrange laughed shrilly from behind the chair Harry was tied to. She leaned forward and grabbed Harry's throat in her taloned hands and forced him to look down at Ginny and Malfoy. Ginny felt more hot tears scorching her cheeks. Everything blurred before her and she found she couldn't look away from Harry's shattered form.   
  
"I'm real! I'm real!" she sobbed, attempting to throw Malfoy off of her and reach him.   
  
"No, no you're not. She...she gets in m'head and makes me see things. Make m'see you, Ginny," Harry croaked, leaning forward. He was rocking slightly and he kept squeezing his eyes shut, as if to clear his vision.   
  
"What have you done to him?" Ginny shouted, choking back her tears as she looked up at Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix smiled and leaned forward over Harry's shoulder.  
  
"I didn't do this to him, little girl," she said. "You did."  
  
"No! I didn't!" Ginny protested, feeling more tears well up in her eyes. "I..."  
  
"You did!" Bellatrix screeched in delight. "You opened that pretty little mouth of yours and told us everything we wanted to know. You betrayed him, Ginny darling."  
  
"You made me!" she gasped, wincing as Malfoy tore at her hair. "You wouldn't stop...it wouldn't stop…I just wanted the pain to stop!"  
  
"So you were saving yourself, were you? Tell your little secret and we'd stop torturing you? You should have known better!" Malfoy said harshly in her ear. Ginny sobbed harder at his words.   
  
In her mind she kept trying to tell herself that they were lying. She hadn't betrayed Harry.   
  
But she had. Shame welled inside of her. She might not have meant to do it, but she had done it anyway. She had told them the exact thing that they'd wanted to hear. She should have died rather than tell them where Harry was, but she hadn't.   
  
Ginny collapsed forward, burying her face against the floor. She didn't want to look at Harry. She couldn't bear to see what she'd done to him.   
  
"Tell her Potter!" Bellatrix was saying. "Tell her what she did. Tell her that you know."  
  
Harry moaned as Malfoy wrenched her head up. Harry's eyes were filled with pain. A single tear coursed down his bruised cheek. "Ginny would...would never do that to me! She loves me..."  
  
Another soul-wrenching sob tore out of Ginny's throat at his words. Harry tried to pull away from Bellatrix. Something of his old self came to his eyes and he turned his head to look at the dark-haired witch beside him.   
  
"Stop making me see her. It's not going to work. She's just a dream..." Harry said softly, anger in his voice.   
  
Bellatrix laughed again and circled around to face him. "Do you really think so?"  
  
"She has to be," he said. "I don't want her to see me like this. So she has to be a dream."  
  
Ginny wanted to cry out again from the tone in his voice. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He looked down at her and another tear spilled down his cheek. Ginny lifted a hand toward him, to touch him and show him that she was real.  
  
Malfoy gave an angry cry and was suddenly pulling her to her feet and away from Harry. Ginny moved out of instinct, eyes watering with more than pain from the way he was wrenching at her hair.   
  
"So, she isn't real, Potter?" Malfoy asked in a nasty voice. Unbidden, a shudder slipped down Ginny's spine. She thought she knew what was going to happen next. "Then you won't mind if I check for myself, do you?"  
  
"Malfoy..." Harry breathed, as if seeing him for the first time. He squinted, looking feverish. "No...don't..."  
  
Malfoy pushed Ginny back down to the ground at Harry's feet. Ginny knew what he was going to do and fear paralyzed her for a split second.   
  
Then anger hardened her heart. She was not going to let him touch her again. She twisted just as he grabbed at her, her hand plunging into the back of her jeans and closing over the handle of the wand she'd hidden there.   
  
She started to pull it out just as something exploded overhead. Bellatrix and Malfoy's attention shifted upward as the house shook around them. Harry moaned in his chair as it teetered. Dust and debris rained down on them.   
  
"What in bloody hell?" Bellatrix spat, stepping forward. "Draco--stay here!"   
  
Ginny squinted through the dust choking the air as she darted toward the stairs. She was up them and out of sight, leaving Harry and Ginny alone in the basement with Malfoy.   
  
Ginny looked up at Harry and saw his eyes were closed. Fear flew through her again.   
  
It was now or never.   
  
She pulled out the wand.  
  
Ron ducked over Hermione as the entire outside wall of the Riddle House exploded inward, sending debris and chunks of wood and stone flying about. Dust choked the night air. Tonks and Remus, who had blown the wall apart, rushed forward over the settling debris. Ron let go of Hermione and followed, his wand out.   
  
The Death Eaters inside the house didn't disappoint them. They surged from the debris, wands out and ready.   
  
Tonks, at the front, went for the first one she saw. Ron recognized Blaise Zabini and winced as Tonks hit her with a closed fist, not even bothering with her wand. Blaise's head reeled under the surprise blow, but she recovered quickly, lifting her wand.  
  
Ron attention turned from Blaise to Lupin, who was far ahead of him in the debris. Rabastan Lestrange and he were locked in a duel, jets of light flying. Remus narrowly avoided getting hit with a Stunner, ducking just as the rest of the Death Eaters emerged.  
  
Fred and George, hands full of rejected Weasley Wizarding Wheezes items took on Armand Dervish. Dervish, seeing the items coming his way, tried to deflect them. Several broke open upon the surfaces of chairs and debris, strange things happening where they hit. More plants sprang up and wood split, acid bubbling up. Dervish's eyes widened as he saw the effect they had. He tried harder and harder to keep them from hitting him.   
  
"GRANGER!" someone screamed suddenly. Ron's attention snapped to the right. His eyes narrowed as he saw Antonin Dolohov emerge from the debris, wand pointed directly at Hermione.   
  
Hermione's wand was already up, though her eyes were glassy with fear. She shot a Stunning spell at Dolohov, but he ducked and shot a cloud of black smoke at her. Ron's eyes widened and he threw himself forward, lifting his wand and waving the black smoke away.   
  
"Ron, no!" Hermione said, but Ron had already started forward, anger flowing through him.  
  
"You and me, Dolohov!" he shouted. "For too long you've been shadowing Hermione's steps! Now its my turn."  
  
"And who are you, little boy, to stop me?" Dolohov sneered. "Granger is the only of you worthy to face me."  
  
"We'll see about that," Ron growled, ducking a wayward spell as it scorched the air. Lupin was still locked in combat with Rabastan Lestrange. He didn't know where Tonks was, but he could hear her shouting.   
  
Dolohov smiled and looked past Ron at Hermione. Ron stepped in his way. Hermione was saying something to him, but ignored her. He knew he'd promised her to let her deal with Dolohov alone, but they'd both known he'd been lying. He wasn't about to let him get at her again. He'd hurt her too many times and Ron was ending it.   
  
Dolohov's smile widened. "Fine, Weasley. Have it your way. First I'll kill you and then I'll kill her."  
  
"You can try," Ron spat.   
  
Then the battle began in earnest. Dolohov was quick on the draw, twirling his wand and sending one spell after another at Ron. Ron spun and protected himself with a shield just in time. The smell of scorched metal was heavy in the air.   
  
Ron sent another volley toward the older Death Eater and watched as he attempted to avoid them. Another cloud of black smoke roiled toward him from Dolohov's wand. He avoided it once more and it dissipated, leaving the air feeling heavy.   
  
On and on it went. Ron was hit with a blast and knocked backward into a support beam. Pain exploded in his side and he heard Hermione scream. He landed on his knees and quickly got up, feeling as if his ribs were broken. He ignored the pain and sent a spiral of bright white light toward Dolohov. And then another. Dolohov couldn't avoid both of them.   
  
The second one hit him and sent him spinning backward. He shouted as he landed, his wand clattered from his fingers.   
  
Ron advanced on him, intending to end it. Something suddenly blocked his path. Ron looked up into Bellatrix Lestrange's face in surprise.   
  
He didn't have time to block her spell as she blasted him straight over her head and backward. Ron landed with Hermione's shouts in his ear and everything went black.  
  
Hermione shouted as Bellatrix hit Ron with a powerful blast of light, sending him sailing over her head. He landed on his back amid a pile of fallen, smoldering stones far into the house behind Dolohov. He didn't stir.   
  
She started forward, anger and fear making her tremble, though her mind was calm. Out the corner of her eye, she saw movement and lifted her wand just as Marietta Edgecombe opened her mouth.  
  
"Granger! It's just you and me! I've wanted to do this for a long ti--"  
  
"iPetrificus Totalus!/i" Hermione said calmly, hitting Marietta with it. Marietta's legs clamped together and arms snapped to her sides and she immediately fell backward in the debris. Hermione turned away from her frozen body and walked toward Bellatrix, who was standing amidst the debris like Aphrodite on her shell.   
  
Ron groaned and started to get up as Hermione walked forward.  
  
Bellatrix smiled and watched her approach. "Come to mother."  
  
Disgust rose up in Hermione. Behind Bellatrix, Dolohov was climbing to his feet.   
  
Time seemed to slow down. The part of Hermione's brain that never shut down, no matter what she was doing, calculated the distance between herself and Bellatrix. She added up the numbers, the force it would take...wind sheer...  
  
She did it all with a cool mind and a calm heart.  
  
Bellatrix lifted her wand. Hermione never gave her the chance to curse her.   
  
"iSTUPEFY!/i?" she shouted and red light shot from the end of her wand. Bellatrix was hit and she flew backward, landing atop a large pile of wood. Hermione winced as she saw one of the pieces pierce Bellatrix's leg, jutting up from her thigh, blood streaking it. She didn't even cry out. Less than a second later, Hermione had turned back to Antonin Dolohov, who was attempting to stand, unsteady on his feet.   
  
"Granger..." he growled. "Looks like I get a taste of you after all."  
  
Hermione didn't answer him. Hatred showed plainly on her face. She looked at the man before her and utter loathing flowed through her. She'd known him as a lethal entity shadowing her life for many years. In the midst of a battle, he would appear and he always got the best of her.   
  
He'd been playing with her the whole time and she knew it. She'd tried to tell herself it was just coincidence, no matter how many times Ron told her otherwise. The fact was, she just didn't want to think about it. He terrified her.   
  
And Hermione hated to be terrified. It made her feel out of control and she wasn't going to stand for it any longer. She was in control now.   
  
She lifted her wand, the Killing Curse on her lips.   
  
"iAvada--/i"  
  
Before she could get the curse out, Dolohov's body arched upward and Hermione was shocked to see a large piece of blood-smeared wood protruding from his chest.   
  
Dolohov cried out and clutched at the wood impaling him. Blood bubbled from his lips and he shuddered, and then fell forward on his knees. Hermione's eyes widened as she saw who was behind him.   
  
Ron, his head bleeding, his chest heaving as he swayed on his feet, stood behind Dolohov's stooped figure. He looked disgusted as Dolohov sucked in a lungful of air, the sound like water in a drain. His body shook and then he fell forward and was completely still.   
  
He was dead.  
  
Hermione met Ron's eyes. They stared at one another for several moments, both too overcome with what had just happened to speak. Hermione's horrified gaze softened slightly as she saw a tear well up in Ron's eye.   
  
"Help me! Someone help me!" Hermione's attention snapped to her left. She saw Lupin struggling with a pile of wood and stone. An arm was sticking out of it the rubble, blood running down and dripping off the wrist. "Tonks! Can you hear me?"  
  
Hermione gasped and ran as fast as she could toward the pile of rubble. Ron swayed over too, breathing hard, blood from the cut on his head dripping into his eyes. They started shifting the pile of rocks, revealing Tonks beneath them.  
  
"What happened? Where are all the Death Eaters?" Hermione asked as Fred and George limped over to them. George had an arm slung over Fred's shoulders, supporting him. Both of them were dirty and flecked with blood, but they looked fine otherwise.   
  
"I killed Rabastan Lestrange and I turned around in time to see Tonks and Zabini get buried the stones," Remus said. His face was pinched with fear and he had Tonks' bloody hand in his own.   
  
"We got Dervish with one of our products. Turned him inside out," George said, setting Fred down. Both of them looked sick.   
  
"Where is Zabini?" Ron asked as they hefted Tonks out of the rubble. Remus took her weight and cradled her in his arms. She was unconscious, but breathing. Hermione heaved a sigh of relief.   
  
"Over there," Remus said, jerking his head in the direction of another pile of rocks. They could just pick out the twisted remains of Blaise Zabini trapped beneath the rubble. Hermione winced and looked around again. "The others...?"  
  
"Dolohov is dead. I cursed Marietta and Bellatrix--" Hermione stopped as her gaze fell on the spot Bellatrix had been. "She's gone! Bellatrix is gone!"   
  
Ron cursed and Remus shook his head. "First rat to abandon a sinking ship," he said sourly, his gaze on Tonks. Her head rolled against his shoulder and he took a deep breath, and then looked up. "That's six of the Death Eaters--where is Malfoy?"  
  
Ron looked up and swore again. "And where are Harry and Ginny?"  
  
Hermione stepped forward, her eyes falling on a door in the wall. "The basement."  
  
"What are you going to do with that, Weasley?" Malfoy spat as she pulled the wand out. He looked surprised, his pale features twisted. He glanced at the doorway and then back at her.  
  
"I'd intended to blow up this goddamned house with your precious Dark Lord inside of it, but as you can see, things didn't go my way," Ginny said, climbing to her feet. From a distance it seemed, she heard shouts from overhead. The ceiling shook again and more dust rained down on them.   
  
Malfoy moved backward toward the stairs. His wand was still pointing at her, but he looked less confident than he had before. His gaze kept flicking upward and she knew that whatever was going up there was distracting him. By the sounds of it and from the tremors pushing through the house, she thought there must be a tornado or an army converging on them all.   
  
"You wouldn't. Not with Potter here!"   
  
Ginny fought the urge to look at Harry. "No...no I won't blow it up now. I have only one thing I want to do now. I want to take a horrible person out of this world. Someone who doesn't deserve to live."  
  
Fear flickered in Malfoy's eyes. "You wouldn't kill me! You don't have the nerve!"  
  
"Maybe I didn't mean you?" she challenged, a single tear coursing down her raw cheek.   
  
Malfoy looked at her slyly. "Don't do it Weasley. Potter isn't worth killing yourself over."  
  
She was slightly taken aback at his tone. "I...no...I wouldn't..."  
  
"The hell you say! You came here on a suicide mission, Weasley. You think I don't know what you're thinking? You've already killed yourself for what you did to Potter. And he isn't worth it."  
  
Ginny shuddered and made herself not look at Harry. If she looked at him she'd lose it. "He's worth anything I can give him. I love him."  
  
"I know you do. That's why I ruined you for him," Malfoy said in a cold voice. "He won't ever want to touch you now. He'll know I've been there and you'll disgust him. He won't love you any more…"  
  
The wand shook in Ginny's hand. "It doesn't matter. I'll always love him. No matter what."  
  
"So much you'd kill yourself for him? You think he'll thank you for that?" Malfoy countered. Ginny was getting confused. Another tear spilled down her cheek. "Are you going to use that thing or not?"  
  
Ginny couldn't answer him. She was shaking and aware that something was moving behind her. She saw Harry out the corner of her eye. He lifted his head again and peered at her.  
  
"Ginny..." he croaked. Ginny felt her chest contract at the sound of his voice.   
  
Malfoy saw she was distracted and lifted his wand. His smile was ghastly as he leveled his wand not at her, but at Harry. Ginny saw his intention and panic raced through her system.  
  
"NO!" Ginny screamed and the next instant she had brought her own wand up. "iAVADA KEDAVRA!/i"   
  
Bright green light slammed into Malfoy, knocking him backward. His body sprawled across the stairs, wand clattering from his lifeless fingers. The green light died around him and he was left staring upward, eyes unblinking and his mouth open in shock.   
  
Ginny trembled and stared at his sprawled form on the stairs. The wand slipped from her fingers and she fell to her knees, tears welling up once more. She didn't know why she was crying--she was too overcome with emotion to sort through them--but she cried just the same. She buried her face in her hands and let the sobs come.   
  
Gradually she became aware that someone was saying her name. She lifted her head, raw eyes peering through the dusty room. She was vaguely aware that the shouting and blasting from overhead had stopped.   
  
"Ginny...Ginny are you real?"   
  
Harry was sitting up in his chair once more, fever-bright eyes locked on her crouched figure. He seemed to be struggling to get free of his bonds. Sweat ran down his forehead and he looked weak, far weaker than he had when she'd first been brought down here.   
  
"Harry? Harry!" she sobbed. She became aware that someone was in the room with them, but she didn't care anymore. Her attention was on Harry and she couldn't look away from him if she tried.  
  
"She...she made me see you! I don't know if you're real!" he said, tears flowing from his eyes. "Please be real!"  
  
"Harry..." she said, crawling toward him. His gaze was fevered and filled with fear. "Harry I'm real! I'm real!"  
  
He shook his head. "S'just another trick...can't be here!"  
  
Ginny lifted a hand and slowly brought it to his cheek. A shock went through her as their skin connected. Harry leaned into her touch as if he wanted more, wanted to make sure she was real.   
  
"I'm real Harry, I'm real," she said over and over again. "I love you...please! I'm real!"  
  
Harry nodded his head, his eyes wide. "I love you, I love you..." he repeated. "I can feel you..."  
  
Ginny felt another sob wrack her body. She was soon lost in her tears, Harry's battered face before hers. The room began to spin and she was aware of someone saying her name. The voice was familiar, but distant. Before her, Harry slumped forward, his eyes fluttering closed, her name on his lips.  
  
She followed him a moment later, the world going black.   
  
She knew nothing for a very long time.  
  



	12. Epilogue

  
  
"LATEST BATTLE TAKES TOLL  
  
"On April 25th, 2004 He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked both Diagon Alley and the Ministry of Magic. The wizarding world, panicked by the news of Harry Potter's apparent death (for more on this story and the attack on the Daily Prophet itself, turn to page 4), flocked to Diagon Alley, where most of the fatalities took place. Nearly 300 lost their lives in this attack. Healers at St. Mungo's have been working overtime to care for all the injured. (full story and list of known dead, page 5)   
  
"Despite this, the Dark Lord was not victorious. Due to the preparation of the Ministry of Magic and the Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley, our side met the Dark Lord's attack with equal force. The giants in the service of You-Know-Who were slaughtered by Aurors or otherwise captured alive. The dementors have been driven back to their island at sea and guards have been placed on them once again. Measures are being put into place making sure they cannot break free again. (full story, page 6)  
  
"The Dark Lord himself was not captured in the battle. He managed to slip free with a large group of his Death Eaters in the last moments when he realized he was outnumbered. His last known whereabouts, a small village called Little Hangleton has been thoroughly searched, but there is no sign of his return. Ministry officials think it is likely he is in hiding for the time being, but we should not let our guard down.  
  
"The Daily Prophet salutes all of the brave witches and wizards who fought for our freedom in this battle and thank them for their unwavering dedication to perserving our freedom. We will survive, come what may. --Luna Lovegood, editor-in-chief."  
  
Hermione finished reading the short article and looked up at the assembled group before her. Ron was sitting to her left holding one of her hands. Fred and George were sitting at the foot of Tonks' bed and Remus was sitting next to her on it. She was still looking horrible from the fight, but her smile was genuine. She held Remus's hand tightly in her own.   
  
On the bed next to Hermione lay Harry Potter. He was propped up on several pillows, his face starkly pale against the linens. His bruises were still spectacular, but he looked slightly better than he had when they'd first pulled him out of the wreckage of the Riddle House.  
  
It had been a week since that night, the night of the battle and the tiny skirmish in the Riddle House. A lot of things had happened in that time.   
  
Marietta Edgecombe was in Azkaban, which had long ago been liberated from the dementors. It still was not a pleasant place to be and Hermione had heard she'd cried for hours after being entombed there. Bellatrix Lestrange was nowhere to be found, though everyone suspected she had joined up with Lord Voldemort after he fled the scene of the battle with several of his Death Eaters in tow.   
  
The Minister of Magic was still cleaning up from the battle. Many Muggles had witnessed the fight and all able-bodied Ministry officials were modifying memories. The Minister was often in meetings with the Queen and the Muggle Prime Minister for hours. Slowly, very slowly, the damage was being repaired.  
  
Everything it seemed, but one thing.   
  
Harry had been in St. Mungo's for a week, but Ginny Weasley had not come near him since that night in the Riddle House. She had asked to be moved from the ward Harry was currently in and was now two wards over. She refused to see anyone, even her family. And after several attempts to engage her, her family had backed off and given her space.   
  
"Do you want me to read the article about you, Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice strangely loud in the sterile room that was reserved for injured Aurors only.   
  
Harry shook his head. His expression was far away. He looked tired again.   
  
"You look knackered, mate," Ron said. "Why don't you get some rest?"  
  
"I'm fine," Harry answered shortly. He turned his head to look at his two best friends. "How is she?"  
  
Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. Hermione looked back at Harry and reached out a hand to touch his arm. "She's...she's fine, Harry."  
  
Harry's clear green gaze bore into hers. "Don't lie to me Hermione. You're horrible at it."  
  
Hermione bit her lip. "She won't see any of us. She's two wards over and...and...Harry she's..."  
  
But she couldn't find the words to say it. She knew the whole story of what had happened--it was one of the few things they'd been able to get out of her before she'd hidden herself away. Hermione knew Ginny blamed herself for what had happened to Harry.   
  
"She blames herself for giving you up, Harry," Fred said bluntly. "She's being an idiot about it."  
  
"Very stubborn, that one," George said, shaking his head. "If Mum hadn't told us to give her some space I'd be over there right now trying to make her see sense..."  
  
Harry nodded his head. His gaze was far away again. He looked exhausted once more. Slowly his eyelids drooped and he seemed asleep. Fred and George, seeing this, stood up and, with a wave at Ron and Hermione, left the ward. Remus pulled the dividing curtain between Harry and Tonks' bed closed, leaving Ron and Hermione alone with Harry.   
  
"We should go, Ron," Hermione said softly as she folded up the newspaper. Ron nodded, his large brown eyes filled with sadness. He'd been unusually quiet since that night. The sadness never left his eyes anymore. He seemed to have something on his mind.  
  
"Yeah...let him get some rest," he said as he stood. Just as he did so, Harry turned his head to face them again, his eyes opening and fixing them both in his gaze.  
  
"Thank you," he said simply. Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion.  
  
"For what, Harry?" she asked, sitting back down and taking Harry's hand.   
  
"For not giving up on me," he said. "You came for me. And Ginny."  
  
Ron circled the bed and sat down on his other side. Awkwardly, he took Harry's other hand, resting his elbow on the bed.   
  
"Harry...we..." Ron started. He seemed to be too choked to say anything. But he cleared his throat and said clearly, "We thought you were dead. Those three days you were gone...we thought you were dead."  
  
"No you didn't," Harry said, shaking his head.  
  
Hermione leaned forward and pulled Harry's hand to her chest, clasping both hands around it. "We did, Harry. I thought...I thought I'd never seen you again. I gave up on you. I'm sorry."  
  
"I know you Hermione. I know both of you. You never gave up on me," Harry said staunchly. A ghost of a smile graced his lips and Hermione's heart was lifted by it. "You're both too thick to give up on me properly and you know it."  
  
Hermione surprised herself by laughing, tears welling in her eyes. "Maybe I was hoping...secretly...but all the facts said you were dead."  
  
Harry's smile widened. "You and your facts," he said fondly. "You wouldn't be Hermione if you didn't believe them. But I know what's in your heart, Granger. You never gave up on me and that's what...that's part of what kept me going, knowing that. Same goes for you, Weasley."  
  
The sad look in Ron's eyes lessened slightly. "I wanted you to be alive Harry. I can't...I can't imagine life without you. Either of you."   
  
He looked slightly embarrassed, but Harry merely clasped his hand harder. "I love you both," he said, his voice shaking with emotion.   
  
"I love you too, Harry," Hermione said, leaning forward and kissing him full on the lips. She pulled away a moment later and Harry turned toward Ron.   
  
"I love you, but I'm not kissing you," Ron said firmly in a flat voice. Harry and Hermione laughed and the sound echoed off the walls. It was a relief to hear it for all three of them.   
  
"That's good. I might get jealous!" Hermione laughed. Ron went red in the face.  
  
"You jealous! Who is the one kissing whom here?" he said, mouth turning up. Harry laughed and clutched at his side. "Trying to steal my girl mate?"  
  
"Not on your life," Harry gasped, lying back against the pillows. He was smiling widely. "My heart belongs elsewhere."  
  
Hermione's smile faded as Harry's eyes immediately darkened. She met Ron's eyes and she saw him frown. Harry's face became downcast immediately and he sighed.   
  
"Harry...she'll come around," Ron said. "Weasley's are just...stubborn."  
  
"I know," Harry said softly. The life seemed to leave him a bit and he sank his head back against the pillows. He looked away from both of them and Hermione sensed that he wanted to be alone.   
  
"Ron?" Hermione said, gesturing with raised eyebrows at the door. Ron took the hint and stood, letting go of Harry's hand. He looked up at both of them.   
  
"Going?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yeah...you look tired," Hermione said, putting his hand back on the coverlet and standing. Harry nodded. "We'll come back tomorrow."  
  
"Okay," he said, closing his eyes. He opened them a moment later. "Thank you again."  
  
"Always mate," Ron said, taking Hermione's hand and leading her from the ward. They passed Tonks' bed and waved at Remus and Tonks, though both of them were too busy to notice them much. "When did they...?"  
  
Hermione smiled as they walked softly past the kissing couple. "I guess he talked to her after all," she said. Ron shot her a peculiar, curious look.  
  
"What are you on about?" he asked as they left the ward and entered the hallway. Hermione stopped and turned to face him. She had the sudden urge to kiss him.  
  
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she stood on tiptoe and did just that. He kissed her back, pulling her against him, his hands wrapping around her waist. After several long moments, they both pulled back. Hermione stared into his soft brown eyes for several long moments, a soft smile on her lips.  
  
"I love you, you know," she said.   
  
"I love you too, Hermione," he said, kissing her again. He pulled back and looked at her. "What are you thinking?"  
  
"I'm thinking that I want everything to be okay again," she said suddenly, thinking of Harry and of Ginny. "I want them to be as happy as we are."  
  
"Maybe they will be. You never know," Ron said softly. The sad light was back in his hound eyes.   
  
"It seems like there's a scar now. A big scar between them," Hermione said, mouth turning down. She couldn't quite explain herself, but she knew she didn't have to. Everyone felt it.   
  
"It'll heal," Ron said in a sure voice, though his eyes told Hermione differently. "They just both have to...have to help it along."  
  
"What if they don't?" she asked. Ron sighed and bent his head, his forehead touching hers.   
  
"I don't know," he said sincerely. Hermione leaned into him and closed her eyes. Ron's familiar scent invaded her senses and she allowed herself a moment in his arms, knowing she was the lucky one.   
  
She didn't know what would happen either. And she wanted to cry. For Harry. For Ginny. For the world.  
  
Harry waited; his eyes squeezed shut, pretending to be asleep, until he heard Remus leave Tonks' bedside. The dark ward was soon silent but for the sound of the many patients sleeping. Tonks shifted in the bed beside his, but was otherwise still.   
  
Slowly and as quietly as possible, Harry got out of his hospital bed, swinging his legs over the edge and taking to his feet. His knees nearly buckled, but he managed to keep upright, though the blood rushed to his head.   
  
The healers had managed to heal his wounds, broken ribs and dislocated shoulder, but he was still weak. He was taking as many as twelve potions to undo the internal damage the Cruciatus Curse had caused and to replenish his blood from losing so much. He'd been near death and so fevered he had been in a coma for two days.   
  
He still remembered, as if it were an old memory and not a recent one, Ginny telling him he was real in the basement of the Riddle House.   
  
He'd been so confused, so scared and wracked with fever that he didn't know if she was really there or if he'd just wanted her there so much that she'd appeared. His heart ached at the memory and of the tears he could still picture on her lovely, bruised face. He hadn't seen her since and the separation was tearing him in two.   
  
He knew the whole story now. Ron and Hermione had told him what Ginny had told them and the bits and pieces they had picked up since that night.   
  
Marietta had been in the service of the Dark Lord for nearly a year, feeding them information. Eager to impress, when Ginny had come to the Portkey Office for a Portkey, Marietta had delivered this information to Draco Malfoy, her contact to the Dark Lord. Malfoy, who had wanted Ginny for some time, had jumped at the chance to capture her. He had gone to her flat, kidnapped her and taken her back to Little Hangleton, where Voldemort had set up his headquarters. They had tortured her for hours until finally, desperate to make it stop, she told them what she thought they had wanted to hear. She had given up Harry's location.   
  
Harry knew very little of what had happened to Ginny after that, such as how she came to be in the basement with him. He needed answers and he was tired of waiting for her to come to him. He needed to see her, at least. He didn't think he could stand another day without seeing her face.  
  
His legs shook as he padded barefoot through the ward, grabbing hold of things to support himself. He slipped through the double doors and turned down the hallway. Hermione had told him where she was earlier and he had no trouble finding it.   
  
He slipped through the doors of the darkened ward, making as little noise as possible as he walked down the row, peering into the beds. It didn't take him long to find her and he wasn't surprised to see she was awake. Her eyes glistened in the candlelight throwing gold shadows across her bed.   
  
She saw him immediately and she seemed to wince, her mouth opening. If she had intended to say something to him, she couldn't seem to get it out. Her lower lip trembled and she pulled the blankets up to her breasts, her eyes huge.   
  
"Don't look at me like that, Ginny," Harry said sadly. "Please..."  
  
"How am I supposed to look at you?" she asked softly as he drew near, teetering on his feet. He gripped the metal footrest of her bed for support and she drew her legs up, not in an invitation to sit, but in order to get away from him.   
  
"Like you used to," he said wearily. "Like you love me."  
  
Ginny trembled in her bed and tears welled in her eyes. "I do love you, Harry."  
  
"Then why have you been avoiding me? Why won't you come near me? Why won't you talk to me?" he demanded, gripping the metal bars of her bed hard. A sob escaped Ginny and she buried her face in her hands, her red hair spilling forward. "Answer me, Ginny..."  
  
Ginny lifted her gaze to his and he saw tears glistening on her cheeks. "I was your Secret-Keeper, Harry. I betrayed you. Like Peter Pettigrew betrayed your parents."  
  
Harry shook his head. "No...no its nothing like that! Pettigrew was evil. You're not evil Ginny!"  
  
"I still betrayed you!" she choked, her chocolate brown eyes on his. "Look at me and tell me I didn't!"  
  
Harry looked at her, drinking in the sight of her face, a sight he had sorely missed all week. Slowly, he spoke. "Ginny, they tortured you. Hermione told me what you told her. They tortured you for a whole day before you told them where I was. You held out for a day! That's...that's amazing!"  
  
"How can you say that? They didn't even know I was your Secret-Keeper! They were just torturing me for the fun of it!" she said.  
  
"That doesn't matter. You knew what they wanted. You're only human. You wanted them to stop hurting you. I know. Bellatrix Lestrange tortured me too. She made me scream for hours on end and by the end of it, I would have given anything to make it stop. I would have told her anything she wanted to know and a few things she'd never ask me. That's why they call it torture Ginny. You can't blame yourself for what they did to you."  
  
Ginny looked at him hard, tears coursing down her cheeks. "I want to believe you. I want to stop hurting whenever I think of what I did, but the feelings won't go away. They could have killed you, Harry. Because of me!"  
  
"Because of both of us. It was stupid making you my Secret-Keeper," he said and continued before she got the wrong idea. "It was stupid, because it would have got out eventually that I was arse over elbow in love with you and they would have come after you in a heartbeat. I was stupid for allowing that to happen. There was no way I could keep my feelings for you secret for much longer--not when I was ready at any instant to shout it from the rooftops!"  
  
Ginny looked away and stared down at her hands, which were worrying the edges of the blankets. "Hermione told me what Bellatrix did to you. What she told you. About me."  
  
"She said you had turned on me and betrayed me like Pettigrew," he said bluntly.   
  
"Did you believe it?" Ginny asked softly.  
  
Harry wanted to scream "NO!" at her as loudly as he could, but he knew that would be a lie. "Yes. For a while, I did believe it. But I didn't want to. I knew you loved me too much to do that to me. My head--you know, the part that sounds like Hermione--was telling me the facts all pointed to yes. But my heart was telling me no. And I followed my heart. I followed my heart back to you, Ginny."  
  
"Harry--"  
  
"Ginny, I don't care what happened. I don't care about why I was captured. I'm safe. You're safe. We're both whole and healthy and we'll heal. I want to heal together. Please don't push me away. I don't blame you. I love you," Harry said, cutting her off. "Please say you love me."  
  
Ginny took a deep breath. "I love you but--"  
  
"No! No buts. Just..." he swayed on his feet again and Ginny sat up, reaching for him. He sat down on the bed, feeling weary. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm still kind of tired."  
  
"You shouldn't have come here..."  
  
"I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to see you," Harry said, taking her hand before she could pull away. Her skin was soft and warm and he reveled in the feel of it against his callused fingers. "I don't want to be apart from you ever again."  
  
Ginny looked up and their gazes locked. There was an odd look he couldn't interpret on her face. She seemed to be contemplating something. Tears continued to course down her cheeks.   
  
"Harry...there's something I need to tell you. I have to tell you. No one else knows," she said slowly.   
  
"What is it?" he asked, leaning closer and squeezing her hand. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."  
  
"I..." she started. She looked away from him and back down at the blankets. Shame was in her eyes. "Harry, Voldemort gave Malfoy a reward for capturing me."  
  
"And what was his reward?" he asked, confused.   
  
"Me," she whispered, her voice breaking. She looked back up at him. "He gave me to Malfoy. And Malfoy...he...he..."  
  
Harry stared at her in confusion. Then realization hit him like a speeding train. He shook his head in disbelief. "No. No he wouldn't...he couldn't..."  
  
Ginny pulled her hand from his. "I...I screamed and he didn't stop and...and he just wouldn't stop." She started rocking back and forth in place, tears running thickly down her face. She closed her eyes, her chin trembling. "He wouldn't stop Harry."  
  
Horror bloomed in Harry's chest as he stared at her. Hatred so deep he thought there could be no end to it filled him. He wanted to kill Draco Malfoy. He wanted to tear him into bits and burn the bits to ash.  
  
But Ginny had already taken care of that problem.   
  
"Ginny...Ginny I'm so sorry..." he said, stumbling for words. He didn't know what to say. Ginny's raw eyes turned back to his and she shook her head.   
  
"He said...he said I'd disgust you. He said you'd hate me because he'd touched me. He ruined me for you," Ginny sobbed, still rocking. She drew her arms up and wrapped them around her chest, her entire body shivering.   
  
Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he looked at her. "No! No Ginny. No, I could never hate you for what he did. That bastard. That fucking bastard hurt you and now..." He shook his head in disgust and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Ginny look at me!"  
  
Her gaze was locked with his. He didn't flinch away from the pain there, the sorrow and the guilt. "Harry..."  
  
"Ginny Weasley, I love you. Nothing will ever make me stop loving you. Nothing!" he said fiercely. "I wish I could kill him again. I wish I could do it with my bare hands! I'd kill him just for looking at you. Just for thinking about you!"  
  
She flinched at the raw anger in his voice. "I killed him."  
  
"I know. Ron told me," he said gently.  
  
"I killed two people Harry," she said numbly.   
  
"I know," he said. "That doesn't make you a horrible person. I've killed many more than that. You did what you had to do."  
  
She nodded and looked down at her hands again. "I nearly killed three."  
  
"Who else?" he asked. She didn't look up as her body gave another violent shudder.  
  
"Myself. I nearly killed myself," she said dully.   
  
Harry inhaled a sharp breath, shock overcoming him. "Why? Why did you almost kill yourself? Look at me Ginny. Why?"  
  
"I didn't want to live. I thought you were dead. After I got free, I decided to go to the Riddle House and blow it up. I wanted to kill Lord Voldemort and all the Death Eaters. I wanted to do something good for everyone. Malfoy had just..." she trailed off and then swallowed hard. "I didn't want to live. But it all went wrong."  
  
"What did?" he asked softly.  
  
"Voldemort left. And Malfoy...he wanted to show me something. I was too scared to do anything but let him drag me along. He took me to the basement."  
  
"And I was there."  
  
"Yes," she said, but she still wouldn't meet his gaze. "I saw you and what I did to you. I couldn't blow up the house with you in it. But I didn't want to...want to live after seeing...seeing what I'd done."  
  
"What happened, Ginny?"  
  
"Nothing. Before I could...Malfoy was going to attack you. So I killed him instead. And then Ron and Hermione and the others found us. I didn't..." she stopped, closing her eyes. "I didn't do it."  
  
"Are you still thinking of doing it?" he asked in a low voice. She didn't look up. "Look at me Ginny. Answer me. Are you still thinking of doing it?"  
  
She looked up and he saw the pain in her eyes. "Every day I think I might go mad feeling everything I'm feeling. And I think...ending it will be better than feeling so much pain. But I...I don't have the courage."  
  
"Suicide isn't an act of courage, Ginny," Harry said angrily, vision blurred by tears. "Suicide is an act of cowardice. You are no coward. You kept on going after what Malfoy did to you! You fought back! You saved me!"  
  
"I damned you," she said.   
  
Harry had had enough. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "STOP IT! Stop it right now, Ginny! Do. Not. Blame. Yourself! I don't hate you. No one hates you. We all love you! I love you more than I could ever tell you! I want to love you until the day I die and I want you to be there. Have you thought about what will happen to everyone in your life if you hurt yourself? HAVE YOU?"  
  
"No."   
  
"Your parents were sick with worthy when you were taken. How do you think they'll be if you killed yourself? Mum and Dad--er…Mr. and Mrs. Weasley--would be a wreck. Your brothers would never get over it. Hermione would lose one of her best friends. I would lose the woman I love! Have you thought about that? Or have you been so selfish you haven't looked past what you're feeling to think of anyone else?"  
  
Ginny looked shocked at the way he was speaking to her, but Harry didn't care. He wanted to knock sense into her. He didn't ever want to see the look of despair in her eyes again. It hurt him to see her hurting so much.   
  
"I'm not trying to be selfish," she said. "I just don't want it to hurt any more."  
  
"I know how much it hurts, Ginny. You think I didn't want to die in that house? I hurt so much I just wanted to close my eyes and let go--but something kept stopping me. I had hope that my friends would find me. I had hope that you were alive," Harry said.   
  
"I can't find any hope Harry," she said softly.  
  
"Then let me help you find it," he said, letting go of his anger. He let go of her shoulders and took her hands. Emotion overcame him. "Let me help you heal Ginny. It doesn't have to hurt if you let me in."  
  
"I don't know if I can, Harry. It ihurts/i so bloody much. Every time I close my eyes I see Malfoy. I keep having nightmares about it. I'm afraid to close my eyes when it gets dark. I'm scared," she said. "I'm scared to let anyone in. I'm not good enough for you anymore."  
  
"Don't you ever think that," Harry said. "You're...you're...oh, Ginny. You're everything I ever wanted. What he did to you can't change that. It's only physical, what he did." He lifted a hand and placed it over her heart. "He could never touch you here. That's where I belong and there's no room inside for him."  
  
"I feel so...dirty inside," she said, clasping her hand over his. He could feel the steady thump-thump of her heart beneath his palm.   
  
"That'll fade with time, Ginny. You have to let it go. You have to let the people who love you back in. Dealing with it by yourself won't make the problem go away."  
  
"I know," Ginny said. "I know. I want..."  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
She took a deep breath and looked at him with want in her eyes.  
  
"I want all the scars to heal. I want things to be like they were. I want to be that little girl at King's Cross who saw a scared little boy asking my mum how to get on Platform 9 and 3/4. I want you to be happy. I want this war to be over. I want...I want everything," she said simply.   
  
"I want all those things too, Ginny," Harry said, squeezing her hand. "Let me want them with you, please? Don't push me away. Please?"  
  
Ginny looked up at him, her lip trembling. Her tears had stopped. Harry thought she'd never looked so beautiful in all her life. She smiled then. A sad, small ghost of a smile that made his heart break and soar at the same time.   
  
"I couldn't push you away if I tried, I guess. Look at you. You shouldn't be out of bed and you just had to come and find me. Its a wonder you can even walk," she said with a teasing hint in her voice. His heart was lifted slightly.   
  
"I could never stay away from you. And I've never been one to stand bed rest for very long. Used to give Madam Pomfrey strokes all over the place back at Hogwarts, you know," he said, matching her tone. The air felt lighter somehow, though the sense of something deeper between them was still there, he had a feeling it was starting to heal.   
  
She laughed, though it wasn't as heartfelt as her usual peal of girlish giggles. He liked hearing it just the same.   
  
"I missed you," she said earnestly.   
  
"I missed you too," he responded immediately. "In case I haven't said it a million times--I love you."  
  
She smiled and it was full and without a hint of sadness. "I think you might have mentioned that once or twice."  
  
"Well get used to it. I think I might do it once or twice for the rest of your life if you let me," he said with a grin.   
  
"Spoil me, why don't you?" she said leaning back against her pillows. Harry suddenly felt very tired. He shifted on the bed and started to crawl beneath her covers. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm tired. And this bed is plenty big enough for the both of us," he responded as he crawled in beside her. He stopped when he saw the look of fear in her eyes. "Um...if...if you don't want to...I understand."  
  
She seemed to be contemplating what he'd said. A moment later though, she reached for him and pulled him down onto the hospital bed beside her. "Please stay. I want you to."  
  
Harry nodded and they adjusted position so that they were curled up next to each other. His arms went around her and he held her close. She rubbed his arms with the tips of her fingers and sighed against him, their foreheads touching. His breath mingled with hers and he felt suddenly warm and content for the moment, despite the pain he knew would come from healing.  
  
"I love you," she said, breath stirring against his lips. "Kiss me."  
  
He did as he was told, kissing her mouth gently. He pulled away quickly. He didn't want to push her and he knew from the stiff way she pulled back that she had a long, hard road ahead of her. They both did. He was more than ready to go down it with her.   
  
Her eyes fluttered closed and she relaxed against him slightly. Harry buried one hand in her hair and rubbed at the back of her neck. Their hearts beat together and he was soon lost in the slow, steady rhythm. He felt sleep overcoming him and he didn't fight it.   
  
As they both sank into slumber, he thought her heard her speak.   
  
"Never leave me."  
  
"Never," he answered softly. "Never."  
  
cicatrix -- noun. (plural: cicatrices or cicatixes); a scar.  
  
(end story)  
  



End file.
